THE  MAKING  OF  A  KING 


L(  A  is  XIli.HAK  LA  GKAU-  \A ,Un;\  ROY  i  )Kh<AM  i .  1:1 '  i  >f  NAVAKK 


)urgeon  de  Saincl  Lov YS,  &  fils  du  Grand  HENRY, 
Qui  doibs  tes  actions  a  ces  deux  prands  excmples 
Voy  les  Palmes  de  l'vn,<3c  de  lauu-elesTemples, 
Et  ibis  par  leurs  vertus  de  ton  Peuple  chcry . 


THE   MAKING 
*     OF  A   KING 


By 

I.  A.  TAYLOR 

Author  of  "  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,"  "  Queen  Henrietta 
Maria,"  "  Queen  Hortense  and  her  Friends,"  "  Lady  Jane 
Grey  and  her  Times,"  "  Christina  of  Sweden,"  etc. 


WITH  17  ILLUSTRATIONS,  INCLUDING 
A     PHOTOGRAVURE    FRONTISPIECE 


New  York 

DODD,   MEAD  AND  COMPANY 
1910 


T-3 


PRINTED   IN  GREAT   BRITAIN 


PREFACE 

THE  nets  of  history  have  a  terrible  tendency  to 
let  the  little  fishes  through.  It  would  indeed 
be  difficult  to  find  a  mesh  strong  enough  to  hold 
captive  the  monsters  of  the  deep,  and  at  the  same  time 
sufficiently  delicate  to  catch  the  shining  goldfish,  or 
even  a  moderate-sized  trout.  The  great  facts  of  a 
man's  life,  when  his  life  has  mattered  to  the  world, 
can  usually  be  trusted  to  take  care  of  themselves  ;  but 
the  touches  that  give  life  to  the  picture,  the  puny 
virtues  and  petty  faults,  the  lovable  weaknesses  and 
follies,  have  a  precarious  existence  so  far  as  posterity 
is  concerned. 

And  yet  these  evasive  elements,  these  trifling  inci- 
dents, are  often  just  the  things  best  worth  knowing. 
Bones  are  well  enough  in  their  way,  and  doubtless 
necessary  to  the  human  fabric  ;  but  which  of  us,  save 
the  ascetic,  would  choose  a  skeleton  for  contemplation  ? 
Its  ephemeral  clothing,  the  beauty  and,  not  less,  the 
blemishes,  of  the  garment  which  decently  veils  what 
lies  below — this  is  what  the  ordinary  man  desires  to 
look  at. 

For  this  reason,  quite  as  much  as  for  their  con- 
spicuous position,  or  the  influence  they  exercised  over 
the  destinies  of  men,  the  lives  of  Kings  and  Queens 
are  usually  more  interesting  than  those  of  their 


248924 


vi  Preface 

obscurer  contemporaries.  Other  Elizabeths  may  have 
existed,  as  great  and  as  small  as  the  last  of  the  Tudors  ; 
but  who  would  have  found  it  worth  his  while  to 
chronicle,  in  merciless  minuteness,  their  foibles,  their 
faults,  their  passions,  and  their  caprices  ?  The  search- 
light is  turned  upon  her  only  because  she  sat  upon  a 
throne.  There  are  women  whose  blotted  records 
might  have  vied  in  interest  with  Mary  Stuart's  had 
any  one  cared  to  make  a  study  of  them.  Other 
nurseries,  other  schoolrooms,  might  present  features 
as  curious  as  the  nursery  and  schoolroom  of  the 
children  of  Henri-Quatre  ;  but  it  is  safe  to  say  that 
few,  if  any,  have  been  laid,  to  an  equal  degree,  open 
to  inspection. 

To  those  attached  to  the  household  of  the  boy 
who  was  first  Dauphin,  and  afterwards  Louis  XIII.— 
to  Maitre  Jean  Heroard,  his  domestic  physician,  in 
particular,  whose  journal  furnishes  so  much  information 
— their  charge  was  naturally  the  central  figure.  His 
companions  and  attendants,  the  princes,  nobles, 
ministers  of  State,  who  visited  him,  were  no  more 
than  accessories,  viewed  in  relation  to  the  child  whose 
likes  and  dislikes,  precocious  sagacity,  impulses  of 
generosity  or  anger,  and  melancholy  comprehension 
of  the  anomalies  around  him,  are  carefully  portrayed. 
Even  the  King,  the  great  soldier,  a  chief  factor  in  the 
destinies  of  Europe,  is  merged  in  the  father.  Yet,  so 
long  as  he  lived,  it  is  Henri  himself  who  must 
necessarily,  to  us  who  look  back,  occupy  the  front  of 
the  stage  from  which  he  is  never  long  absent.  His 
children,  he  once  told  Sully,  were  the  prettiest  in  the 
world,  and  his  happiest  hours  were  spent  in  playing 


Preface 


Vll 


with  them.  During  the  first  nine  years  of  Louis's  life 
we  watch  his  father  at  this  pastime,  and  are  admitted 
to  the  vie  intime  of  the  King. 

Those  nine  years  were,  outwardly,  the  most  tranquil 
of  Henri's  storm-tossed  existence.  Yet  treachery  was 
all  around  him.  Danger  was  in  the  air  ;  and  the 
Bearnois,  gay,  debonair,  pleasure-loving,  a  man  who 
loved  life  and  would  fain  have  seen  good  days, 
recognised,  intermittently,  his  peril,  and  knew  that  the 
assassin  lay  in  wait.  Again  and  again  he  showed  the 
consciousness  that  death  was  ready  to  spring  upon 
him  ;  and,  ever  prepared  to  face  an  open  enemy,  the 
presence  of  a  veiled  doom,  the  memory  of  prophecies 
of  evil,  haunted  his  imagination  with  a  vague  dread. 
The  catastrophe  which  justified  those  fears  lends  pathos 
to  the  story  of  his  intercourse  with  the  son  who  was 
soon  to  be  called  upon  to  fill,  inadequately,  his  father's 
place. 

The  four  years  of  Louis's  minority,  following  upon 
the  death  of  Henri-Quatre,  contain  the  story  of  the 
warring  passions,  the  jealousies,  ambitions,  and  hatreds 
surging  round  the  poor  child  who  was  the  nominal 
head  of  the  State,  and  was  already  condemned  to 
experience  in  some  sort  the  loneliness  belonging  to 
sovereignty.  During  his  father's  lifetime  the  strong 
hand  over  him,  the  severity  combined  with  the  love, 
supplied  at  least  one  wholesome  element  to  his 
training.  Henri  gone,  he  was  the  prey  of  flatterers, 
or  of  those  who  sought  to  make  capital  out  of  his 
weakness.  Traces  of  healthy  and  close  companionship, 
of  familiar  intercourse  on  equal  terms,  are  rare.  Signs 
of  strong  affection,  giveji  or  received,  are  rarer  still. 


viii  Preface 

His  mother,  in  her  heavy,  undemonstrative  fashion, 
may  have  loved  him — the  fact  has  been  questioned. 
It  is  certain  that  her  tenderness  afterwards  centred 
on  her  younger  son.  On  the  other  hand,  any  sign 
on  Louis's  part  of  a  preference  was  a  danger-signal, 
menacing  the  power  of  those  who  hoped  to  rule 
through  him,  and  a  reason  to  compass,  if  possible,  the 
removal  of  the  object  of  his  likftig.  In  some  dim  way 
the  boy  recognised  the  fact. 

"  They  want  to  take  him  away  because  I  love  him/' 
he  cried  with  tears,  when  Alexandre  de  Vendome  was 
to  be  sent  out  of  the  country.  Louis,  as  he  once 
said  of  himself,  was  not  u  grand  parleur,"  but  the 
complaint,  finding  vent  in  a  moment's  passion  of 
sorrow,  points  to  a  grievance  felt  and  resented  at  other 
times  in  silence  by  the  boy  whose  unwise  clinging  in 
after  years  to  worthless  favourites  indicates  a  special 
craving  for  affection  and  companionship. 

No  attempt  is  made  in  this  volume  to  read  the  man 
into  the  child,  or  to  interpret  his  early  years  by  the 
light  of  what  followed  them.  To  readers  who  may 
desire  to  pursue  the  story,  and  to  trace  in  Louis's  after- 
life the  results  and  consequences  of  his  training,  the 
means  of  doing  so  lie  ready  to  their  hand,  both  in 
the  memoirs  and  records  of  his  contemporaries  and 
in  the  works  of  later  writers.  These  pages  are  con- 
cerned alone  with  the  boy  Louis,  Dauphin  and  King— 
a  small,  helpless  figure  standing  out  against  the  sombre 
background  of  intrigue,  violence,  passion,  and  treachery 
by  which  he  was  surrounded. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   I 
1601 

The  Court  at  Fontainebleau — Awaiting  the  Dauphin's  birth — Cesar 
de  Vendome — Birth  of  Louis  XIII. — Rejoicings — The  Dauphin's 
horoscope pp.  i-il 

CHAPTER   II 
1 60 1 

The  King's  marriage — Difficulties  in  choosing  a  wife — Gabrielle 
d'Estrees — Henriette  d'Entragues — The  Florentine  match — Marie  de 
Medicis  arrives  in  France — Character  of  Henri-Quatre — Domestic 
discord  ..........  pp.  12-23 

CHAPTER   III 
1602 

Babyhood — The  Duchesse  de  Bar— Biron's  conspiracy:  its  phases 
and  development — The  Queen  and  the  Marquise  de  Verneuil — The 
King  at  Saint-Germain  .......  pp.  24-36 

CHAPTER    IV 
1602 

Progress  of  Biron's  conspiracy — The  traitors  at  Saint-Germain — 
Biron's  letter — Henri  ready  to  pardon  him  He  refuses  to  admit  his 
guilt — Is  arrested — The  King  and  Madame  de  Verneuil  at  Saint- 
Germain  s pp.  37-47 


x  Contents 

CHAPTER   V 
1602-1604  * 

Biron's  execution— Pardon  of  Auvergne — Madame's  birth — The 
nursery  at  Saint-Germain — The  King's  children— Monseigneur  the 
Dauphin — Domestic  difficulties — Concini  and  Leonora — Rivalries  at 
Court — The  King's  illness — Talk  of  a  Spanish  marriage — Henri  com- 
plains to  Rosny  of  his  wife — And  of»Madame  de  Verneuil — Death  of 
his  sister — Rosny  opposes  the  King — The  Dauphin's  training — Friction 
between  father  and  son pp.  48-64 


CHAPTER   VI 
1604 

Recall  of  the  Jesuits — The  Queen  and  Madame  de  Verneuil — The 
Marquise's  children  placed  at  Saint-Germain—Discovery  of  the  plot  of 
d'Entragues — The  King's  clemency pp.  65-77 


CHAPTER    VII 

1604 

The  Dauphin  at  Fontainebleau — Life  at  the  palace — The  King's 
affection  for  his  son — Visit  of  the  Comte  de  Sora — Quarrel  between 
King  and  Dauphin — Its  results — The  conspirators — Father  and  son 

pp.  78-87 


CHAPTER   VIII 
1605 

Results  of  the  conspiracy — Rosny  and  his  enemies — Temporary 
estrangement  of  the  King — Their  reconciliation — The  Dauphin  and 
Rosny — The  Spanish  match  projected — The  Dauphin's  love  for  his 
father — Visit  of  Queen  Marguerite — The  King  and  Queen  on  good 
terms — The  Marquise  at  Saint-Germain  .  .  .  -pp.  88-102 


Contents  xi 

CHAPTER  IX 

1606 

New  Year's  Day — Rosny  becomes  Due  de  Sully — Expedition  against 
Bouillon — The  Dauphin  in  Paris — Bouillon  reduced  to  submission — 
Brought  to  Saint-Germain — The  Dauphin's  baptism  .  pp.  103-118 

CHAPTER   X 
1607 

Quarrels  between  King  and  Queen — Sully  and  his  enemies — His 
relations  with  Henri — And  with  the  Queen — The  Duke  as  mediator 

pp.  119-131 

CHAPTER   XI 
1608 

Henri's  affection  for  his  children — The  Dauphin's  training — Birth  of 
the  Due  d'Orleans — Marie  de  Medicis'  complaints — Sully  at  Fontaine- 
bleau — The  Turkish  Ambassador  and  the  Dauphin — Madame's  rebuke 

pp.  132-143 

CHAPTER    XII 
1608 

Marriage  projects — The  Chevalier  Guidi  at  Court — Difficulties  with 
the  Queen — The  Dauphin's  fear  of  parsimony — Betrothal  of  the  Due 
de  Vendome — Don  Pedro  de  Toledo's  mission  .  .  pp.  144-160 

CHAPTER   XIII 

1608-1609 

Henri-Quatre  preparing  for  war— Conciliates  Concini— The  Dauphin 
removed  to  the  Louvre — His  household — The  King  at  the  Arsenal — 
Sully  under  suspicion — His  vindication — Henri  and  the  Jesuits 

pp.  161-175 


xii  Contents 

CHAPTER    XIV 

1609-10 

Henri  and  Mademoiselle  de  Montmorency — The  King's  desire  for 
domestic  peace — His  forebodings — Henri  and  his  son — The  Infanta's 
portrait — Chances  of  war — Sully  and  the  Dauphin  .  .  pp.  176-190 

• 
CHAPTER  XV 

1610 

The  spring  of  1610— Predictions  of  evil— The  Queen's  approaching 
Sacre — Henri's  fears — Omens  of  misfortune — Marie  de  Medicis  crowned 
at  Saint-Denis pp.  191-198 

CHAPTER   XVI 
1610 

May  14,  1610 — Henri  and  Guise — The  King's  melancholy — His  last 
hours — His  murder — The  scene  at  the  Louvre — Sully's  ride  through 
Paris — Effect  of  the  murder — Marie  declared  Regent — Louis  XIII.  King 

pp.  199-212 

CHAPTER    XVII 
1610 

Louis's  Accession — The  scene  in  the  Parlement—  Sully  at  the  Louvre 
— The  Queen  as  Regent — The  King's  fears — Claims  of  the  Comte  de 
Soissons —Burial  of  Henri-Quatre — Louis  proclaimed  .  pp.  213-225 

CHAPTER   XVIII 
1610 

Rival  forces  in  the  State — Cond6's  return — Lonis  and  his  gouverneur 
— His  position  and  training — Unlikeness  to  his  father — His  love  for 
him — Pierrot  at  Court pp.  226-238 


Contents  xiii 

CHAPTER   XIX 
1610-11 

Policy  of  the  Government — Unrest  in  Paris — Concini  dominant — The 
Duke  de  Feria's  mission— The  King's  coronation— Louis  and  Cond6— 
Sully's  dismissal — Rumours  of  war  .....  pp.  239-252 

CHAPTER  XX 
1611 

Parties  at  Court — The  Saumur  assembly — Louis's  tutors — Departure 
of  Alexandre  de  Vendome — Matrimonial  projects — Death  of  the  Due 
d'Orleans — His  burial — The  Spanish  marriages — Louis  and  Conde — 
Charles  d'Albert  de  Luynes pp.  253-267 


CHAPTER  XXI 
1612 

The  year  1612 — The  Spanish  marriages  finally  arranged — Truce  with 
the  Princes — Signature  of  the  marriage  contracts — The  Due  de  Belle- 
garde  and  the  magic  mirror — Death  of  the  Comte  de  Soissons — Louis 
in  disgrace pp.  268-282 


CHAPTER    XXII 
1613 

Murder  of  the  Baron  de  Luz — Its  motives  and  its  effects  at  Court— 
Marie  reconciled  with  the  Guises — Louis  intervenes  in  a  criminal  case 
— His  spirit  of  justice — d'Ancre  in  temporary  disgrace — He  is  made 
Marshal  of  France — Peace  or  war  ? pp.  283-294 


xiv  Contents 

CHAPTER    XXIII 
1614 

The  Prince  and  his  friends  leave  Paris — Nevers  seizes  Mezieres — 
Contrary  counsels — Cond6's  manifesto — Negotiations — Uneasiness  at 
Paris — Louis  at  the  Council-board — Peace  signed — Vendome  rebellious 
— The  Prince  at  Poitiers — Court  to  go  to  Orleans  .  .  pp.  295-308 

CHAPTER   XXIV 
1614 

The  journey — TheTrince  de  Cond6  loses  strength — The  pleasures  of 
the  road — Louis  as  bon  compagnon — The  Court  at  Orleans,  Tours, 
Poitiers,  and  Nantes — Vendome  makes  his  submission — Return  to 
Paris — Louis's  majority pp.  309-320 

PRINCIPAL   AUTHORITIES p.  321 

INDEX PP- 323-329 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

LOUIS  xiii.         .....    Photogravure  Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

GABRIELLE   D'ESTREES 14 

JEAN    HEROARD 26 

LOUIS    XIII.    AT   THE   AGE   OF   THREE 62 

MARGUERITE    DE   VALOIS 96 

HENRIETTE   DJENTRAGUES 112 

SULLY 124 

HENRI    IV.    AND    HIS   FAMILY 132 

MARIE   DE    MEDICIS 148 

CONCINO   CONCINI 162 

HENRI    IV 184 

LOUIS    XIII.    ON    THE   DAY   OF    HIS   ACCESSION          .  .  .214 

LOUIS    XIII.    AND   THE   REGENT 226 

ANNE   OF   AUSTRIA 264 

COMTE   DE   SOISSONS    ........  278 

PRINCE  DE  COND£ 296 

LOUIS   XIII.  .........       304 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  KING 


CHAPTER   I 
1601 

The  Court  at  Fontainebleau— Awaiting  the  Dauphin's  birth— Cesar 
de  Vendome — Birth  of  Louis  XIII. — Rejoicings — The  Dauphin's 
horoscope. 

IT  was  September  1601.  The  Court  was  at  Fon- 
tainebleau. Paris  was  on  its  knees.  The  devotion 
of  the  Forty  Hours  was  going  on,  and  the  people 
thronged  the  churches.  Those  little  given  to  prayer 
prayed  now,  for  a  momentous  issue  was  at  stake.  Was 
France,  by  the  mercy  of  God,  to  be  granted,  at  long 
last,  an  heir  to  the  throne ;  or  was  her  tranquillity,  her 
future,  to  continue  to  be  dependent  on  the  slender 
thread  of  a  single  life  ?  Would  the  child  whose  birth 
was  awaited  fulfil  the  hopes  and  longings  of  the  nation, 
or  were  those  hopes  and  longings  destined  to  be 
disappointed  ?  The  question  was  on  the  point  of 
receiving  an  answer. 

At  the  palace  all  was  prepared  for  the  welcome  to 
be  given  to  a  Dauphin.  Henri-Quatre  loved  Fon- 
tainebleau, where  the  event  was  to  take  place.  There 


2  The  Making  of  a  King 

he  hunted  ;  there  he  spent  leisure  hours  devising 
additions  to  the  mass  of  buildings  successive  centuries 
had  contributed  to  erect.  Portions  of  the  palace 
begun  by  Francis  I.  had  been  finished  by  him  ;  fresh 
features  had  been  added.  He  had  built  the  Galerie 
des  Cerfs,  where  the  grim  tragedy  of  Monaldesco's 
murder  was  to  be  enacted  some  fifty  years  later.  He 
had  fashioned  the  lake  south  of  the  Cour  des  Fon- 
taines and  the  canal  running  the  length  of  the  park. 
And  to  the  great  oval  chamber  where  his  son  was  now 
to  be  born  he  afterwards  added,  in  commemoration  of 
the  day,  the  Porte  Dauphine. 

The  Princes  of  the  Blood — so  troublesome  and 
turbulent  an  element  in  the  history  of  France — had 
been  bidden  to  Fontainebleau,  that  they  might  be 
witnesses,  according  to  custom,  of  the  birth  of  the 
King's  son.  The  Prince  de  Conti,  by  reason  of  his 
infirmities  a  negligible  element  in  political  life,  was  at 
the  palace,  as  well  as  his  more  important  cousin,  the 
Comte  de  Soissons.  The  Due  de  Montpensier,  Mont- 
morency,  Constable  of  France,  with  a  crowd  of  other 
nobles,  were  in  attendance  ;  Catherine,  Duchesse  de 
Bar,  the  King's  only  sister,  was  there,  and  the  Duchesse 
de  Nemours.  And  the  nine-year-old  Cesar  de  Ven- 
dome,  son  to  Henri-Quatre  by  Gabrielle  d'Estrees, 
whose  succession  to  the  throne  of  France  had  been 
hitherto  considered  not  out  of  the  range  of  possibility, 
was  also  keeping  his  father  company.  The  post  of 
Lady-in-waiting  to  the  Queen  was  filled  by  Antoinette 
de  Pons,  Marquise  de  Guercheville — the  same  who 
had,  before  Henri's  second  marriage,  been  the  object 
for  a  brief  space  of  his  wandering  affections,  and  had 


The  Dauphin's  Birth  3 

refused  to  listen  to  his  suit,  saying  with  dignity 
that,  unfit  by  station  to  become  his  wife,  she  came 
of  too  noble  a  race  to  occupy  any  other  position. 
Mademoiselle  de  Renouliere  was  first  woman  of  the 
bed-chamber.  Madame  Louise  Boursier  was  to  act  as 
sage-femme. 

For  the  household  of  the  Dauphin  thought  had 
already  been  taken.  The  post  of  gouvernante  to  the 
unborn  infant  had  been  conferred  upon  Madame  de 
Montglat,  whose  reign  in  the  royal  nursery  was  to 
continue  for  many  years.  Maitre  Jean  Heroard, 
Physician-in-Ordinary  to  the  King,  had  been  named 
the  child's  domestic  doctor,  the  appointment  being 
made  by  Henri  in  person  at  four  o'clock  on  Sep- 
tember 21.  That  afternoon,  meeting  Heroard  in  the 
palace  garden  on  returning  from  the  hunt,  the  King 
had  announced  to  the  man  of  medicine  the  honour 
in  store  for  him  in  language  leaving  no  doubt  that, 
however  it  might  be  with  others,  the  person  chiefly 
interested  in  the  birth  of  an  heir,  refused  to  contem- 
plate the  possibility  of  disappointment. 

"  I  have  chosen  you,"  Henri  told  Maitre  H6roard, 
"  to  place  near  my  son.  Serve  him  well." 

All  was  therefore  ready.  France,  the  King,  his 
enemies  and  his  friends,  his  loyal  subjects,  and  the 
men  who  hated  him  and  were  leagued  together  that 
they  might  compass  his  downfall,  were  alike  waiting 
and  watching  for  what  was  to  come. 

And  the  foreign  Queen,  a  stranger  amongst  strangers, 
unloved  by  her  husband,  distrusted  by  many  of  his 
people,  was  also  waiting,  conscious,  it  may  be,  that 
upon  the  question  whether  or  not  she  would  give 


4  The  Making  of  a  King 

an  heir  to  the  throne  might  hang  her  future  fortunes. 
Her  position  might  seem  secure  ;  but  she  well  knew 
that  hostile  forces  were  at  work  against  her,  and 
that  the  Marquise  de  Verneuil,  insolent  and  ambitious, 
by  whom  the  King  was  held  enthralled,  had  in  her 
possession  a  written  promise  of  dangerous  significance. 
With  a  Dauphin  born  in  lawful  wedlock  to  strengthen 
her  hands,  Marie  de  Medicis  could  trust  to  her  power 
of  holding  her  own  against  her  rival  ;  but  how  would 
it  be  otherwise  ?  Might  not  she,  like  Marguerite  de 
Valois,  the  wife  whose  place  she  filled,  be  in  her  turn 
discarded  by  the  King  ? 

Thus,  anxiously  for  all,  the  hours  went  by.  Cesar 
de  Vendome — C6sar  Monsieur,  as  his  father  liked 
him  to  be  called — ignorant  of  the  change  to  be  effected 
in  his  position  should  a  son  of  unchallengeable  legiti- 
macy be  born  to  the  King,  was  a  sharer  in  the  pre- 
vailing excitement.  Waylaying  Madame  Boursier  as 
she  was  passing  through  the  palace,  he  put  to  her  the 
question  in  all  men's  minds.  Would  the  infant,  he 
asked,  be  a  boy  or  a  girl  ? 

That,  answered  the  sage-femme,  playing  with  the 
child's  eagerness,  would  be  as  she  pleased. 

"  Sage-femmc"  pleaded  the  Duke,  "  sage-femme,  since 
it  depends  upon  you,  make  it  a  boy." 

"  What  will  you  give  me  if  I  do  ? "  she  asked. 

"  All    you    want,"    he    promised  ;    "  or    rather " 
honestly  limiting  her  expectations — "  all  I  have." 

Little  Vendome,  with  -the  whole  of  France,  was 
to  be  granted  his  desire.  At  half-past  ten  on  the 
evening  of  September  27 — Maitre  Heroard  vouches 
for  the  hour,  on  the  strength  of  his  watch,  made 


The  Dauphin's  Birth  5 

by    M.    Plantard,    of   Abbeville — the    Dauphin    was 
born. 

Not  at  once  did  Madame  Boursier  put  an  end  to 
the  general  anxiety.  Apprehensive  that  joy  might 
prove  as  dangerous  to  the  mother  as  grief,  the  sage- 
femme  kept  the  momentous  fact  at  first  to  herself, 
the  King  himself  remaining  ignorant  that  his  hopes  had 
been  crowned.  Watching  the  nurse's  face  he  imagined 
indeed  that  upon  it  he  read  disaster,  and  that  Heaven 
had  pronounced  against  him.  Describing  the  scene  a 
few  days  later,  after  his  light-hearted  fashion,  he  told 
his  sister  and  the  Princes  of  the  Blood  that  never  had 
he  seen,  on  the  field  of  battle  or  elsewhere,  so  much 
determination  shown  by  man  or  woman. 

"  She  had  my  son  upon  her  knee,"  he  said,  "  and 
looked  around  her  as  coldly  as  if  she  held  a  thing 
of  nought.  And  it  was  a  Dauphin,  not  seen  in 
France  for  eighty  years  !  " 

It  was  a  Dauphin.  As  she  watched  the  King, 
withdrawn  to  a  distance,  his  countenance  sad  and 
changed,  Madame  Boursier  relented  and  sent  him  a 
message  intimating  that  all  was  well.  Even  with  this 
assurance  Henri  could  scarcely  believe  in  a  joy  so  great. 
Only  when  the  tidings  were  corroborated  by  the  sage- 
femme  in  person  did  the  colour  return  to  his  face. 

"  Sage-femme"  he  asked,  as  he  again  drew  near, 
"  is  it  a  son  ?  I  beseech  you  not  to  give  me  false 
hopes.  It  would  kill  me."  Then,  as  a  "petit 
M.  le  Dauphin  "  was  dispkyed  to  him,  he  lifted  his 
eyes  to  Heaven,  and,  with  the  great  tears  running 
down,  gave  thanks. 

"  Ma  mie"  he  said  to  the  Queen,  "  God  has  done 


6  The  Making  of  a  King 

us  the  great  grace  of  giving  us  what  we  asked.     We 
have  a  fair  son." 

Anxiety,  fear,  anticipation  were  replaced  by  certainty. 
France  was  no  longer  without  an  heir.  In  the  eyes 
of  those  who  wished  the  King  well  all  was  as  it  should 
be.  Others  perhaps,  looking  on,  felt  that  the  death- 
blow had  been  dealt  to  their  secret  hopes,  and  that 
thenceforth  plots,  plans,  conspiracies  must  be  arranged 
upon  a  fresh  basis. 

The  infant  had,  by  Henri's  orders,  been  handed 
over  to  Madame  de  Montglat,  as  the  woman  to  be 
chiefly  entrusted  with  his  care.  After  the  fashion  of 
the  day,  he  was  given  a  few  drops  of  wine,  the  little 
body  being  also  washed  with  red  wine  and  oil,  and 
the  head  with  wine  and  oil  of  roses.  It  was  probably 
when  all  this  had  been  done  that  his  father  solemnly 
blessed  him,  placing  the  sword  in  the  tiny  hand,  with 
the  prayer  that  it  might  be  used  for  God's  glory  alone 
and  in  the  defence  of  the  French  people. 

After  which  the  King  left  the  bedchamber,  to  an- 
nounce the  child's  birth  to  the  concourse  of  nobles 
awaiting  him  in  the  adjoining  apartment.  A  very 
rapture  of  emotion  greeted  the  tidings  he  had  to 
impart.  Men,  beside  themselves  with  joy  and  relief, 
crowded  around  him  and  flung  themselves,  almost 
knocking  him  down,  at  his  feet,  as  he  bade  them 
give  thanks  to  God. 

"  Prepare,  each  one  of  you,"  he  said,  "  to  do  it," 
proceeding  to  admit  so  great  a  throng  into  the  very 
presence  of  the  Queen  and  her  newborn  baby  that 
it  was  scarcely  possible  to  move.  Madame  Boursier, 
concerned  on  account  of  the  fainting  mother,  would 


The  Dauphin's  Birth  7 

have  protested  ;  but,  putting  his  hand  on  her  shoulder, 
Henri  imposed  silence  upon  her. 

"  Hush,  hush,"  he  said.  "  This  child  belongs  to 
all  the  world.  Let  every  one  rejoice." 

And  thus  began  the  life  of  Louis  XIII. 

Throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  his  father's 
kingdom  he  was  greeted  as  a  supreme  gift  from 
Heaven,  a  saviour  from  ruin  and  disorder  and  the 
distraction  of  a  disputed  succession.  Visiting  the  child 
some  months  later,  an  aged  general  of  the  King's  gave 
voice  to  the  prevailing  enthusiasm. 

"  May  it  please  God,  to  grant  to  Monseigneur  the 
Dauphin  his  father's  good  fortune,  the  valour  of  Char- 
lemagne, and  the  piety  of  St.  Louis,"  the  old  man 
prayed  as  he  fell,  weeping,  on  his  knees.  "  Let  God 
call  me  hence  when  it  shall  please  Him.  I  have  seen 
the  salvation  of  the  world." 

Success  to  some  means  of  necessity  defeat  to  others. 
A  scene  significant  of  much — of  changing  fortunes  and 
perished  hopes — is  described  by  Madame  Boursier.  On 
the  day  following  upon  the  Dauphin's  birth  she  en- 
countered the  Due  de  Vendome  loitering  about  after 
the  manner  of  a  neglected  child.  Holding  by  the 
tapestry  covering  the  entrance  to  the  chamber  through 
which  guests  were  passing  in  succession  to  inspect  the 
newborn  heir,  he  had  stopped  short  as  if  bewildered 
when  the  nurse  accosted  him. 

"  He  quoiy  Monsieur,"  she  said  kindly.  u  What  are 
you  doing  there  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  the  boy  answered  vaguely.  "  No 
one  speaks  to  me.  No  one  says  anything  to  me 
any  more." 


8  The  Making  of  a  King 

The  good  woman  did  her  best  to  explain  away  the 
defection  of  the  courtiers.  It  was,  she  said,  because 
every  one  was  going  to  see  M.  'le  Dauphin,  who  had 
only  just  arrived.  When  all  had  greeted  him,  they 
would  talk  to  the  little  Duke  as  before.  The  incident 
being  reported  to  the  Queen,  Marie  was  very  pitiful, 
in  the  midst  of  her  happiness,  over  the  son  of  the 
dead  Gabrielle.  It  was  enough  to  kill  the  poor  child, 
she  said  ;  giving  orders  that  he  should  receive  even 
more  attention  than  usual. 

u  Every  one,*'  she  observed,  "  is  amusing  themselves 
with  my  son,  and  nobody  thinks  of  him.  It  must 
seem  strange  to  the  child. " 

If  Marie  de  Medicis  has  many  sins  and  failings  to 
be  laid  to  her  charge,  her  tenderness  for  the  son  of  the 
woman  Henri  had  loved  should  be  allowed  to  weigh 
in  the  balance  on  the  other  side.  Nor,  in  spite  of  the 
jealousy  and  indignation  evoked  in  her  by  the  King's 
conduct,  is  this  a  solitary  instance  of  her  kindness 
towards  the  children  who  shared  their  father's  love  with 
her  own. 

Meantime  the  King  was  a  happy  man  ;  and  will  not 
have  grudged  the  thousand  crowns  won  from  him  by 
Zamet,  the  banker,  who  had  wagered  that  the  infant 
would  be  a  boy.  Two  thousand  crowns  had  been 
likewise  won  by  the  fortunate  gambler  from  the 
Queen,  the  child  having  been  born,  as  he  had  pro- 
phesied, on  a  Thursday  ;  so  that  he  too  had  reason 
to  be  well  content.  Te  Deums  were  sung,  and 
the  Pope  was  to  be  invited  to  be  godfather,  the 
King  desiring  to  present  his  son  to  God,  "and 
to  incorporate  him  into  the  Church  as  worthily  as 


The  Dauphin's  Horoscope  9 

possible,  so  that  he  may  tread  in  the  footsteps  of  his 
ancestors." 

All  went  well  ;  and  the  Queen,  joy  and  excitement 
notwithstanding,  was  in  so  satisfactory  condition  that, 
no  more  than  two  days  after  the  birth,  Henri  was  writ- 
ing to  tell  Rosny  that  it  was  impossible  to  believe  how 
rapidly  she  was  recovering — that  she  had  already  done 
her  own  hair  and  talked  of  leaving  her  bed. 

"Elle  a  un  naturel  terriblement  robuste  et  fort," 
added  the  King.  ..."  I  believe,  as  you  do,  in  the 
favour  done  me  by  God  in  giving  me  a  son,  and  in 
the  part  that  you  and  all  the  good  folk  in  my  Kingdom 
take  in  my  joy.  Yesterday,  coming  home  from  hunt- 
ing a  deer  which  had  escaped  me,  I  heard  the  firing  of 
the  cannon  in  Paris." 

It  would  have  been  better  had  the  King  been  con- 
tent with  the  present  and  had  not  striven  to  unveil  the 
future.  An  unwise  curiosity  clouded,  if  only  for  the 
moment,  his  full  satisfaction.  Another  physician  be- 
sides H6roard  had  been  present  at  the  birth — one 
M.  de  la  Riviere,  suspected  of  Huguenot  proclivities. 
This  gentleman,  versed  in  the  art  of  astrology,  had  been 
directed  by  the  King  to  take  careful  note  of  the  exact 
hour  and  minute  when  the  child  first  drew  breath  and 
to  cast  his  horoscope.  The  physician  obeyed.  Yet  a 
fortnight  elapsed,  and  the  King  had  heard  nothing,  till, 
summoning  him  to  his  presence,  he  called  him  to 
account  for  his  silence. 

"  You  have  told  me  nothing  as  to  the  birth  of 
my  son,  the  Dauphin,"  he  said.  "  What  did  you 
find  ?  " 

Riviere  replied  with  an  affectation  of  carelessness. 


io  The  Making  of  a  King 

He  admitted  that  he  had  begun  something  of  the  kind, 
but  had  let  it  alone.  He  had  ceased  to  amuse  himself 
with  a  science  he  had  partly  forgotten,  and  which  was 
frequently  greatly  at  fault. 

The  King  brushed  his  excuses  curtly  aside.  Riviere, 
he  said,  was  not  a  man  to  indulge  in  scruples.  He 
was  unwilling  to  speak,  lest  he  should  either  be  com- 
pelled to  lie  or  should  give  offence.  On  pain  of 
his  displeasure  he  commanded  the  doctor  to  be  open 
with  him. 

Even  when  the  King's  orders  had  been  issued,  it  was 
not  until  after  repeated  refusals — and  then  as  if  in 
anger — that  Riviere  obeyed  and  made  known  to  him 
what  the  stars  had  revealed. 

"  Your  son,"  he  said,  c<  will  live  to  man's  estate  and 
will  reign  longer  than  yourself;  but  he  will  differ  from 
you  in  all  his  tastes  and  humours.  He  will  have 
his  own  opinions  and  fantasies — sometimes  those  of 
other  people.  It  will  be  a  time  to  think  rather  than  to 
speak.  .  .  .  What  has  been  set  in  order  by  you  will  be 
undone.  He  will  perform  great  things,  be  fortunate 
in  his  designs,  and  be  talked  of  in  Christendom.  He 
will  leave  issue  behind  him,  and  things  will  become 
afterwards  worse.  And  this  is  all  that  you  will  know 
from  me." 

"  Upon  which,"  says  the  narrator  of  the  scene, 
"  the  King,  having  fallen  into  a  melancholy  dream, 
said  :  '  I  see  very  well  that  you  are  in  accord  with 
the  Huguenots.  You  say  this  because  you  hold  with 
them/ 

"  '  Sire/  replied  M.  de  la  Riviere,  c  I  am  in  accord 
with  anything  you  please.  But  you  will  know  nothing 


The  Dauphin's  Horoscope  n 

more  from   me.' "      And  turning  away,  still  as  if   in 
anger,  he  went  out. 

When  Riviere  had  withdrawn  the  King  took  Rosny, 
who  had  been  present,  into  a  window  apart  and  spoke 
with  him  on  the  subject  of  the  seer's  prediction.  But 
what  he  said  was  known  to  none. 


CHAPTER   II 
1601' 

The  King's  marriage — Difficulties  in  choosing  a  wife — Gabrielle 
d'Estr£es — Henriette  d'Entragues — The  Florentine  match — Marie 
de  Medicis  arrives  in  France — Character  of  Henri-Quatre — 
Domestic  discord. 

IN  order  to  understand  the  anomalous  condition  of 
the  royal  household,  and  the  atmosphere  into 
which  Louis  was  born,  it  is  necessary  to  go  back  to  the 
time,  some  three  years  earlier,  when  Henri-Quatre, 
triumphant  over  his  enemies,  and  at  length  at  leisure 
to  take  thought  for  the  future,  had  determined  upon 
obtaining  the  annulment  of  his  marriage  with  Marguerite 
de  Valois,  the  wife  from  whom  he  had  been  virtually 
separated  for  fourteen  years. 

All  were  agreed  as  to  the  urgent  need  for  the  step, 
if  France  were  to  be  safe-guarded  from  the  struggle 
likely  to  follow  should  Henri  chance  to  die  leaving  no 
legitimate  heir.  His  enemies  themselves  were  clear 
upon  this  point  ;  but,  in  their  case,  a  fresh  marriage 
was  not  sufficient  ;  the  wife  he  chose  must  be  such  as 
to  satisfy  them.  Either  he  must  marry  a  Queen  to  their 
liking,  and  who  would  serve  to  strengthen  the  interest 
of  Spain,  or — he  should  die  :  "  Le  tuer  ou  le  marier  " 
so  Michelet  describes  the  alternatives  they  set  before 
them. 

12 


HenrkQuatre's  Marriage  13 

It  was  not  expected  that  much  difficulty  would  attend 
the  dissolution  of  the  one  marriage  which  was  a 
necessary  preliminary  to  entering  upon  another.  There 
was  little  doubt  that  Rome  would  consent.  Marguerite 
could  be  trusted  not  to  oppose  the  measure.  No  one 
would  lose  by  it  ;  many  would  gain.  King  and  people 
were  at  one  in  desiring  that  Henri  should  be  set  free 
to  form  new  ties.  The  question  as  to  who  should 
fill  the  place  to  be  left  vacant  was  less  easily  settled. 
The  rival  parties  in  the  State  had  each  their  views 
on  the  subject,  and  the  person  chiefly  concerned  had 
his  own.  When  Henri  first  discussed  the  matter 
with  Rosny  he  enumerated  every  marriageable  princess 
in  Europe,  and,  whilst  praising  some  and  pointing  out 
the  disabilities  of  others,  he  found  objections  to  all. 
He  desired  to  wed — so  the  Minister  sardonically 
defined  the  situation  when  the  list  was  complete 
— but  could  discover  no  woman  upon  earth  fit  to 
become  his  wife.  Rosny  was  tacitly  declining  to  admit 
as  a  possibility  the  match  he  was  well  aware  was  in  his 
master's  mind,  and  was  doggedly  ignoring  the  fact  that 
Gabrielle  d'Estrees,  Duchesse  de  Beaufort,  fulfilled  in 
Henri's  eyes  all  the  conditions  necessary  to  satisfy  him. 
When  the  King  broached  the  subject  in  plain  words, 
he  made  answer  no  less  plainly,  and  the  reply  was  not 
such  as  to  encourage  Henri  to  place  the  crown  upon 
the  head  of  the  woman  he  loved,  or  to  make  her  son 
his  heir. 

Yet  Henri  was  master,  and,  in  spite  of  Rosny,  in 
spite  of  the  mass  of  public  opinion  by  which  the 
Minister  was  backed,  Gabrielle's  chances  were  not 
small.  She  was  genuinely  and  devotedly  attached  to 


14  The  Making  of  a  King 

the  King,  whilst  Henri  repaid  her  by  a  love  greater 
than  he  had  perhaps  ever  bestowed,  or  was  to  be- 
stow, upon  a  woman.  She  was  already  the  mother 
of  one  son,  and  was  soon  to  give  birth  to  another. 
Powerful  friends  were  ready  to  support  her  claims. 
The  Princess  of  Orange,  Coligny's  daughter,  was  her 
advocate ;  those  who  wished  for  a  French  Queen, 
and  feared  and  dreaded  a  Spanish  one,  would  have 
rejoiced  at  the  match.  Marguerite  de  Valois,  indeed, 
indignant  at  the  prospect  of  her  place  being  filled 
by  a  woman  of  Gabrielle's  birth  and  antecedents, 
might  declare  that,  rather  than  permit  the  disgrace, 
she  would  oppose  the  decree  pronouncing  her  own 
marriage  void  ;  Rosny  might  contemptuously  refuse 
to  allow  the  designation  "  enfants  de  France "  to  be 
applied  to  the  Vendome  children  in  the  account  of  the 
expenses  incurred  at  their  baptism,  saying  that  no  such 
children  existed  ;  but  Henri  adored  the  mother,  was 
proud  of  his  boy,  and  it  was  more  than  possible  that 
the  one  would  become  Queen  and  the  other  be 
acknowledged  heir  to  the  throne. 

So  the  case  stood  when,  in  Holy  Week,  1600, 
Gabrielle  solved  the  question  by  dying.  Whether 
there  had  been  foul  play  or  not  is  of  no  conse- 
quence here.  It  was  undeniable  that,  whilst  some 
mourned  her,  more  rejoiced.  In  the  eyes  of  many 
of  the  King's  well-wishers  a  peril  was  averted. 
His  enemies  felt  that  an  influence  adverse  to  their 
aims  and  objects  had  been  removed.  Henri  himself 
lamented  ;  but  those  acquainted  with  him  foresaw 
that  his  grief  would  be  short-lived.  If  brief,  it  was 
bitter. 


GABRIELLE    D'ESTREES,    DUCHESSE    DE    BEAUFORT. 


p.  14] 


Death  of  Gabrielle  d'Estrees  15 

u  The  root  of  love  is  dead  in  me,"  he  wrote  to  his 
sister.  "  It  will  throw  out  no  more  shoots." 

He  probably  believed  what  he  said.  Yet  almost  at 
once  followed  his  passion  for  Henriette  d'Entragues, 
the  cold,  ambitious,  unloving  woman  who  held  him 
enslaved  till  close  upon  the  end,  and  to  whom  the 
unhappiness  of  his  nine  years  of  married  life  was 
chiefly  due. 

Gabrielle  gone,  the  question  of  the  King's  marriage 
was  simplified,  and  it  soon  became  clear  that  his 
choice  of  a  wife  would  fall  upon  Marie  de  Medicis, 
niece  of  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany. 

Henriette  d'Entragues,  indeed,  aspired  to  the  posi- 
tion her  predecessor  had  hoped  to  fill.  Henri,  wax  in 
the  hands  of  an  intriguing  woman,  had  gone  so  far  as 
to  sign  a  paper  pledging  himself  to  marry  her  should 
she  bear  him  a  son  within  a  year  ;  and  though  Rosny, 
when  his  master  placed  the  document  in  his  hands,  had 
been  bold  enough  to  tear  it  across,  nothing  was  easier 
than  to  replace  it.  Nevertheless,  whatever  might  have 
been  the  case  had  Gabrielle  lived,  whatever  promises 
had  been  wrung  from  him  by  Henriette,  Henri  could 
scarcely,  in  his  saner  moments,  have  deemed  it  possible 
to  make  the  object  of  his  fresh  passion  Queen. 

As  a  matter  of  policy  and  convenience  the  Florentine 
match  had  much  to  recommend  it.  Marie  de  Medicis, 
it  was  true,  had  been  one  of  the  ladies  he  had 
mentioned  to  Rosny  in  terms  of  depreciation.  The 
Duke  of  Florence,  he  said,  had  a  niece  reported  to  be 
good-looking.  She  came,  however,  of  one  of  the  least 
of  the  princely  houses  of  Christendom,  and  was  besides 
of  the  same  race  as  Catherine,  the  late  Queen-mother, 


1 6  The  Making  of  a  King 

who  had  worked  so  much  ill  to  France  and  to  himself! 
Yet,    in   spite   of  her   disadvantages,    Marie  was    fast 
distancing  her  rivals.     Henri  was  under  obligations — 
especially  money  obligations — to  her  uncle.     He  hoped, 
should  he  wed  the  niece,  to  be  relieved  from  a  part  of 
his  debts,  and  to  obtain  in  addition  more  of  the  ready 
money  he  urgently  needed.    Another  war  was  inevitable 
if  the  rights  of  France  were  to  be  vindicated,  and  a 
war,    even    if  a    minor    one,  meant    fresh   needs  and 
necessities.     The  Duke   of  Savoy  retained  possession 
of  territory  acquired   during    the    time  when  France 
was  distracted  by  the  League  and  its  civil  wars.      His 
promises   of   restitution    or   compensation    were    only 
made  to  be  broken  or  evaded  ;  it  was  becoming  plain 
that  force  must  be  used.     Rosny,  wise,  prudent,  and 
fearless,    was   prepared  for  the  struggle ;    Henri    was 
never  unwilling  to  unsheath  the  sword.     In  August 
1600    the  standard  was  raised  at  Lyons,  and  success 
again  attended   upon   the  arms  of  the   great   captain. 
Treachery,  it  was  true,  was  one  of  the  forces  to  be 
contended  with,  but  if  the  Due  de  Biron,  Marshal  of 
the  troops,  was  at  heart  a  traitor,  Rosny  and  his  master 
were  at  hand  to  counteract  the  effects  of  his  double 
dealing.     The  incompetent  nobles  in  command  of  the 
artillery  were  replaced  by  capable   officers  ;  every  re- 
source of  the  country  was  brought  into  requisition  to 
ensure  success,  and  once  more  the  King  was  a  victor. 

In  the  meantime  the  last  obstacle  in  the  way  of  his 
remarriage  had  been  removed.  A  decree  from  Rome 
had  been  obtained  annulling  his  union  with  Marguerite; 
Marie  de  Medicis  was  to  be  Queen  of  France. 

Most    people   approved    of    the    match.       To    one 


The  King's  Marriage  17 

person  it  meant  failure  and  disappointment,  the  down- 
fall of  inordinate  aspirations  and  ambitions.  Henrietta 
d'Entragues,  now  Marquise  de  Verneuil,  never  forgot 
that  she  had  hoped  to  wear  a  crown  and  to  be  mother 
of  a  Dauphin  ;  nor  was  she  a  woman  to  pardon  her 
supplanter.  Anxious  to  propitiate  her  so  far  as  it  was 
possible,  the  King  delayed  the  marriage  as  long  as  he 
could  find  excuses  for  delay ;  but  the  respite  could 
only  be  short.  Marie,  as  well  as  her  uncle,  was  impatient. 
Perhaps,  at  twenty-six,  she  was  in  truth  half  in  love 
with  the  great  soldier  she  had  never  seen,  and  whom, 
having  seen,  she  was  to  love  so  little  and  to  have  so 
little  reason  to  love.  In  a  letter  she  wrote  when  her 
fate  was  decided  there  is  a  note  of  something  more 
than  the  conventional  language  of  compliment. 

"  Since  all  my  will  and  all  my  soul  live  but  in  you," 
so  it  ran,  "  may  your  Majesty  be  assured  of  being  ever, 
I  will  not  say  loved  by  me,  for  that  is  very  little;  but, 
if  I  may  be  permitted  to  say  so,  adored." 

A  time  came  when  reasons  for  delay  could  be  no 
longer  averred.  Marie  de  Medicis  and  Henri-Quatre 
were  wedded,  by  proxy,  with  all  the  magnificence  and 
pomp  due  to  the  position  of  the  bridegroom.  The 
bride  was  escorted  to  her  new  country,  and  her  first 
meeting  with  Henri  took  place  at  Lyons. 

On  this  occasion  all  went  well.  Nevertheless,  to 
those  who  look  back  at  the  company  gathered  together, 
germs  of  disintegration  are  perceptible  already  at  work. 
The  King  had  brought  a  strange  companion  in  the 
little  Due  de  Vendome,  then  a  tall  boy  of  seven,  bright 
and  spirited.  His  hand  was  kissed  by  the  Tuscan 
ambassador,  as  though  he  had  in  truth  borne  the  title 

2 


1 8  The  Making  of  a  King 

of  enfant  de  France  repudiated  by  Rosny,  and  upon 
him  Marie  lavished  caresses.  With  the  new  Queen 
was  her  foster-sister,  Leonora  Galigai,  soon  to  become 
the  wife  of  the  notorious  Concini,  whose  influence 
was  to  be  so  important  and  disastrous  an  element  in 
the  future,  and  for  whom — also  at  Lyons — the  King  at 
once  conceived  a  marked  dislike. 

Upon  the  arrival  of  the  Queen  at  Paris  some  six 
weeks  later,  she  was  enlightened  as  to  the  mode  of 
existence  she  was  to  expect.  The  very  evening  that 
she  reached  the  capital  the  Duchesse  de  Nemours  and 
Mademoiselle  de  Guise,  yielding  reluctant  obedience  to 
the  King's  command,  presented  to  his  bride  the  Marquise 
de  Verneuil,  who,  in  Henri's  own  blunt  words,  having 
been  his  mistress,  now  desired  to  become  the  Queen's 
humble  servant. 

Without  a  change  of  countenance  Marie  de  Medicis 
endured  the  insult :  she  did  not  forget  it.  And  thus 
her  married  life  was  inaugurated. 

From  the  first,  given  the  characters  of  husband  and 
wife,  it  was  doomed  to  failure.  Henri  was  a  great 
King,  a  great  soldier  ;  he  was  not  a  great  man. 
Nothing,  says  Michelet,  summing  up  the  case,  was 
solid  in  him  save  the  soldierly  element  ;  all  else  was 
fluid,  changeable  as  water.  Lovable,  kindly,  affec- 
tionate, gay,  quick-witted,  hot-tempered,  impulsive, 
he  retained  to  the  end  something  of  the  child — a 
child's  longing  for  love  and  approval  and  sympathy  ; 
something,  notwithstanding  his  abjuration  of  his  early 
creed,  of  a  child's  faith.  Royalty  in  him  had  never 
stiffened  or  overshadowed  humanity  ;  but  the  moral 
sense  was  absent.  Like  Esau,  he  would  have  bartered 


Character  of  Henri-Quatre  19 

his  inheritance,  spiritual  or  temporal,  for  the  mess  of 
pottage  the  moment  offered.  Yet  there  was  a  charm 
in  him  hard  to  resist.  Emotional  and  easily  moved, 
even  to  the  point  of  tears,  his  anger  was  as  short-lived 
as  it  was  sharp.  It  might  almost  be  said  that  he  did 
not  know  how  not  to  forgive,  that  he  was  incapable  of 
distrust.  Entering  Paris  as  a  victor,  he  went  to  the 
house  of  the  Duchesse  de  Montpensier,  his  foe,  and 
asked  for  food.  As  it  was  set  before  him,  she  was 
about,  according  to  custom,  to  taste  it  before  he  ate, 
when  he  stopped  her.  That  ceremony,  he  said,  was 
not  necessary.  The  Duchess,  remembering  the  past, 
demurred. 

"  What  !  "  she  said,  <£  have  I  not  done  enough  to 
render  myself  suspect  ?  " 

"  You  are  not  so,  ma  tante"  was  the  King's  reply, 
and  the  old  enmity  broke  down,  conquered  by  his 
confidence. 

"  Ah,"  said  his  hostess,  "  one  must  be  your  servant" ; 
and  she  kept  her  pledge. 

Again,  he  had  sworn  that  d'Aubigny,  the  friend 
of  Huguenot  days,  the  opponent  of  later  years,  should 
die.  Nevertheless,  when  he  placed  himself  in  the 
King's  hands  and,  looking  at  the  scar  left  upon  Henri's 
mouth  by  the  blow  of  an  assassin,  told  him  sternly 
that,  having  renounced  God  with  his  lips,  He  had 
wounded  him  on  the  lips,  and,  should  he  renounce 
Him  with  the  heart,  the  heart  would  be  pierced,  Henri 
only  answered  by  placing  his  little  son,  C£sar  de 
Vendome,  with  a  smile,  in  the  arms  of  the  monitor. 
A  like  master  might  be  blamed  ;  he  could  not  fail 
to  be  loved. 


20  The  Making  of  a  King 

Loved,  that  is,  by  friends  and  servants.  It  was  a 
different  matter  when  a  woman  was  concerned — and  a 
woman  whose  fate  it  was  to  see  her  husband  helpless 
in  the  hands  of  a  rival,  blind  to  that  rival's  disloyalty, 
ministering  to  her  ambition,  and  ready  to  sacrifice  to 
her,  not  only  his  wife  and  her  happiness,  but  the 
interests  of  her  children.  Some  women  indeed  might 
have  been  capable  of  vindicating  their  position,  and, 
gaining  the  King's  affections,  have  won  the  day.  Marie 
de  Medicis  was  not  such  a  woman.  Perhaps  she  never 
understood  her  husband  sufficiently  to  render  it  pos- 
sible. Henri  wanted  not  only  to  be  happy  ;  he  wanted 
to  be  gay.  Henriette  d'Entragues  owed  part  of  her 
extraordinary  ascendancy  to  the  fact  that  she  could 
always  make  him  laugh.  Laughter  was  not  easily 
come  at  by  means  of  intercourse  with  the  Queen. 
Ponderous,  serious,  injured,  with  an  ever-present  sense 
of  her  grievances,  she  had  no  chance  against  the  cold, 
clever,  unscrupulous  Frenchwoman  ;  and  from  the  first, 
pitted  against  her,  she  played  a  losing  game.  u  Spanish 
in  heart,  Austrian  in  body,  Flemish  by  birth,"  she  could 
offer  little  attraction  to  the  brilliant,  versatile  Gascon 
she  had  married  ;  and  what  poor  chances  might  have 
existed  of  domestic  peace  were  minimised  by  the  fact 
that  Leonora  and  Concini  were  in  possession  of  her 
ear.  Had  Henri  persisted  in  the  intention  he  had  at 
first  evinced  to  insist  upon  Concini's  return  to  France, 
much  subsequent  trouble  might  have  been  avoided. 
The  Queen's  foster-sister,  should  she  remain  in  France, 
was  to  have  been  married  to  a  Frenchman,  and  the 
danger  arising  from  the  combined  influence  of  the  two 
foreign  favourites  would  have  been  averted.  Yielding 


Concini  and  Leonora  Galigai  21 

to  his  wife's  entreaties,  Henri  was  weak  enough  to 
permit  both  Italians  to  accompany  her  to  Paris,  con- 
senting afterwards,  though  reluctantly,  to  bestow  upon 
Leonora  the  post  and  title  of  dame  d'atour.  The 
interests  of  the  pair  having  become  one  by  their 
subsequent  marriage,  the  presence  of  husband  and 
wife,  rapacious  and  scheming  intriguers,  could  not  fail 
to  prove  disastrous  at  Court. 

Leonora,  low-born,  ill-favoured,  and  totally  deficient 
in  the  qualities  and  gifts  which  would  have  fitted  her 
to  take  the  place  accorded  her,  was,  strangely  enough, 
the  one  of  the  couple  whose  influence  over  Marie  was 
paramount.  The  fact  of  her  mistress's  love  for  her 
was,  it  can  scarcely  be  doubted,  what  had  determined 
Concini  upon  making  her  his  wife.  The  Queen's 
confidence  in  "cette  femme  de  n£ant,"  to  use  the 
language  of  the  angry  Grand-duke,  her  uncle,  was 
blind,  her  affection  unchanging  and  tenacious.  To 
the  foreign  Queen  Leonora,  associated  with  her 
childhood  and  youth,  represented  home  and  country. 

Concini's  antecedents  were  of  a  different  nature. 
Of  a  good  Florentine  family,  his  career  at  the 
University  of  Pisa  had  been  marked  by  no  successes, 
and,  extravagant  and  ill-conducted,  he  had  become 
an  outcast  from  the  society  of  his  native  city  at 
the  time  when  the  King's  marriage  was  projected. 
Availing  himself  of  the  opportunity,  an  uncle  who 
occupied  at  that  moment  the  position  of  Secretary 
of  State  succeeded,  in  spite  of  opposition  from  the 
Grand-duke  and  others,  in  including  his  nephew 
in  the  train  which  was  to  accompany  Marie  to 
France ;  and  the  foundation  of  his  future  fortune 


22  The  Making  of  a  King 

was  thus  laid.      Such  were  the  couple  who  ruled  the 
Queen. 

Had  the  element  of  discord  supplied  by  the  Concini 
been  absent,  any  hopes  of  wedded  happiness  must,  for 
Henri  and  Marie,  have  been  small.  The  King's  con- 
duct was  from  the  first  a  matter  of  public  scandal. 
There  had  not  been  so  much  as  a  break  in  his  inter- 
course with  the  Marquise  de  Verneuil.  The  very 
appointment  of  Leonora  to  her  post  in  the  royal  house- 
hold had  been  due  to  an  interposition  on  the  Marquise's 
part,  prompted  by  a  desire  both  to  display  her  power  and 
to  gain  a  hold  over  so  important  an  attendant  on  the 
Queen.  It  soon  became  known  that  she  was  expecting 
the  birth  of  a  child  almost  simultaneously  with  the 
King's  wife.  There  is  a  degree  of  misconduct  that 
the  public  taste  finds  it  difficult,  even  in  its  idols,  to 
condone,  and  Henri's  popularity  suffered  a  momentary 
eclipse. 

Thus  the  first  year  of  his  marriage  had  gone  by. 
As  autumn  approached  he  had  been  called  away  by 
worthier  cares  and  duties.  Spain  was  attacking  Ostend  ; 
and  the  presence  of  her  troops  so  close  to  the  French 
frontier  rendered  watchfulness  and  supervision  neces- 
sary. Near  the  scene  of  action,  at  Calais  and  Boulogne, 
and  within  sound  of  the  conflict,  the  King's  finer 
instincts  awoke,  and  he  wrote  kindly  to  his  wife. 

"  You  know,  ma  mie,"  he  said,  "  where  I  am  going  ; 
but,  with  the  help  of  God,  I  shall  be  back  for  your 
confinement.  Go  to  Fontainebleau.  Nothing  will  be 
lacking  to  you.  You  will  have  my  sister,  who  is  the 
best  of  company,"  and  others  whom  he  enumerated. 

During    his    absence    he    kept     Marie     constantly 


inl 
lik 


King  and  Queen 


informed  of  his  movements,  telling  her  of  his  war- 
like preparations,  his  occupations  on  the  sea-coast,  and 
taking  thought  for  her  welfare  at  home.  By  Sep- 
tember 19  he  had  hurried  back  to  the  palace,  lest  he 
should  fail  to  be  present  at  the  birth  of  his  child. 
Eight  days  later  the  Dauphin  was  born. 


CHAPTER   III 
1602 

Babyhood — The  Duchesse  de  Bar — Biron's  conspiracy  :  its  phases 
and  development — The  Queen  and  the  Marquise  de  Verneuil — 
The  King  at  Saint-Germain. 

FOR  the  present  it  mattered  little  to  the  latest-born 
descendant  of  St.  Louis  whether  predictions  of 
disaster,  such  as  those  that  had  clouded  the  spirits  of 
the  King,  were  hazarded  concerning  him  ;  or  whether, 
as  by  his  father's  old  general,  he  was  hailed  as  a 
new  Messiah.  It  was  true  that  no  time  was  lost 
in  pointing  out  his  duties  and  responsibilities,  and 
before  he  was  three  months  old  Heroard  had  explained 
to  him  that  God  had  bestowed  him  on  the  world  that 
he  might  be  a  good,  just,  and  righteous  sovereign, 
observing  with  satisfaction  that  the  infant  listened 
very  attentively  to  the  admonition  and  greeted  the 
words  with  a  smile.  But  Heroard  took  a  favourable 
view  of  the  Dauphin's  capacities. 

Under  the  care  of  his  adoring  attendants,  and  visited 
by  those  of  his  future  subjects  judged  worthy  of  the 
honour,  he  grew  and  prospered.  The  Duchesse  de 
Bar,  as  sister  to  the  King,  was  privileged  to  give  him, 
for  the  first  time,  his  shirt,  the  rocker  directing  her 
to  make  the  sign  of  the  cross  as  she  handed  it  to 

him. 

24 


The  Duchesse  de  Bar  25 

"  Make  it  for  me,"  said  the  Duchess,  smiling.  "  I 
do  not  know  how." 

Seriousness  underlay  the  lightness  of  the  words.  The 
woman's  injunction  may  not  have  been  given  without 
malice.  Every  one  knew  the  position  of  the  King's 
sister,  and  were  aware  that,  in  spite  of  the  arguments 
of  theologians  and  her  brother's  entreaties,  Catherine 
had  remained  faithful  to  the  precepts  of  their  common 
mother,  Jeanne  d'Albret,  and  was  firm  in  her  refusal 
to  follow  Henri's  example  and  abjure  the  creed  of 
her  childhood.  If  her  religion  was  prejudicial  to 
her  husband's  house — that  of  Lorraine — she  offered, 
with  tears,  to  return  to  her  home  at  Berne.  But  to  the 
King's  threats  that  he,  as  well  as  the  Duke,  would 
abandon  her  did  she  not  accede  to  their  wishes,  she 
replied  that,  were  his  Majesty  and  the  whole  world  to 
forsake  her,  she  would  serve  God  -as  the  poorest  lady 
upon  earth  rather  than  dishonour  Him  as  a  Queen. 

Henri's  menaces  had  been  empty,  and  the  sequel 
was  to  show  that  his  affections  were  in  no  wise  alienated 
by  her  obstinacy.  On  December  17  she  went  her  way 
back  to  Lorraine,  accompanied  on  the  first  stage  of  her 
journey  by  the  King,  "  leaving  the  Catholic  theologians 
ill-contented  and  the  ministers  well  satisfied." 

By  the  middle  of  November  the  Dauphrn  had  been 
removed  to  Saint-Germain-en-Laye,  passing  through 
Paris  on  his  way,  where  he  received  visits  of  inspection 
from  all  the  Princes  and  Princesses  at  Court. 

At  Saint-Germain  the  earlier  years  of  his  childhood 
were,  with  short  intervals,  to  be  passed.  Built  on  a 
hill,  on  the  edge  of  a  wooded  plateau,  it  may  have  been 
considered  that  the  high  air  would  be  conducive  to 


26  The  Making  of  a  King 

health.  The  freedom  of  the  country  life  that  could 
be  led  there  was  an  undoubted  advantage  ;  and  when, 
later  on,  the  Dauphin  was  transferred  to  the  Louvre, 
he  is  found  longing  to  revisit  his  old  haunts. 

At  Saint-Germain  an  early  guest,  probably  by  the 
King's  desire,  presented  herself.  u  The  Marquise  de 
Verneuil,"  writes  Heroard,  "  comes  to  see  him.  He 
looks  at  her  with  attention  and  laughs  graciously. 
She  was,  as  she  said,  much  pleased  at  the  honour  he 
did  her." 

The  jest  will  have  veiled  no  little  bitterness.  She 
must  have  thought,  as  she  watched  the  Queen's  son,  of 
her  own  boy,  born  a  few  days  later,  and  whom  she  was 
accustomed  boldly  to  term  her  Dauphin.  Had  her 
hopes  been  fulfilled,  her  child  would  have  been  heir  to 
the  throne.  And  storms  were  imminent. 

Fortified  by  the  possession  of  a  son,  Marie  de 
Medicis  had  resolved  at  this  time  upon  abandoning 
the  attitude  of  submission  she  had  at  first  adopted  with 
regard  to  the  Marquise.  Indignant  at  her  rival's 
insolence,  she  told  the  King  that  she  refused  for  the 
future  to  admit  her  to  her  presence.  It  was  the 
opening  of  a  struggle  which,  though  intermittent,  was 
carried  on  till  the  end. 

Henri  was  beginning  to  reap,  in  discord  and  strife, 
what  he  had  sown.  Nor  were  domestic  troubles  the 
only  ones  by  which  he  was  threatened.  If  the  Dauphin's 
birth  and  the  presence  in  the  Saint-Germain  nurseries 
of  an  heir  to  the  throne  was  a  source  of  joy  and  comfort 
to  him,  it  was  sorely  needed.  Outwardly,  peace  might 
have  succeeded  to  conflict,  rest  to  struggle.  The 
storms  and  tempests  by  which  the  life  of  the  Bearnois 


I.  HEROAKD.  S.  D:\AVGRIGNEVSE 
P'MEDECIN  ovRoY  Lovis  xm. 


From  a  contemporary  engraving. 

JEAN    HEROARD, 

Physician  to  I,ouis  XIII. 
P.  26] 


Biron's  Conspiracy  27 

had  been  hitherto  tossed  had  subsided  ;  but  none 
knew  better  than  the  victor  how  precarious  was  this 
tranquillity.  Though  Spain,  his  inveterate  and  relentless 
enemy,  might  have  owned  herself  defeated,  he  was  not 
ignorant  that  she  was  merely  biding  her  opportunity, 
and,  in  league  with  domestic  foes,  was  gathering 
strength  for  a  final  attack. 

Henri  was  always  ready  for  a  struggle  with  an  open 
foe.  War  was  his  natural  atmosphere,  his  delight. 
It  was  a  different  matter  when  the  antagonist  was 
a  veiled  one.  To  know  that  all  around  him  was 
treachery,  that  in  his  household,  amongst  his  intimate 
associates,  in  the  men  who  stood  nearest  to  the  throne, 
he  had  secret  enemies,  on  the  watch  to  take  advantage 
of  an  unguarded  moment,  was  to  lead  a  life  of  strain 
and  tension  trying  to  the  boldest  spirit.  Proof  might 
as  yet  be  wanting,  but  Henri,  shrewd  and  sagacious, 
appraised  the  situation  correctly.  Who  were  numbered 
amongst  the  traitors,  how  far  the  infection  of  treason 
had  spread,  he  might  still  be  uncertain.  Nevertheless, 
as  he  waited  the  development  of  events  he  must  have 
felt  that  a  crisis  could  not  be  far  off. 

The  most  powerful  men  in  the  kingdom  were,  in 
fact,  drawn  into  the  nets  of  a  conspiracy  which  had 
been  for  years  secretly  maturing.  The  Constable  of 
France,  Montmorency,  Epernon,  Bouillon — all  of  them 
possessing  the  greatest  influence  in  different  parts  of 
the  country — were  in  their  several  degrees  involved 
in  it.  The  Comte  d'Auvergne,  Charles  IX.'s  illegi- 
timate son,  half-brother  to  the  Marquise  de  Verneuil, 
as  well  as  the  Marquise  herself,  were  likewise  implicated 
in  the  plot.  Above  all,  one  man  was  steeped  in  guilt. 


28  The  Making  of  a  King 

That  man  was  the  Marechal  de  Biron,  owing  more 
to  the  King  than  perhaps  any  other  of  his  servants. 

The  story  of  his  treason  is  a  strange  one — or  would 
be  strange,  were  it  not  that,  the  obligations  of  friend- 
ship and  loyalty  once  forgotten  and  the  downward 
path  entered,  he  who  has  most  to  be  forgiven  becomes 
the  man  most  reckless  in  his^  crime.  Biron  had  been 
the  King's  brother-in-arms  ;  had  fought  by  his  side 
on  battle-field  after  battle-field;  had  twice  owed  to  him 
his  life  ;  and,  it  must  be  added,  had  for  his  part 
sheltered  Henri  with  his  own  body  on  more  than 
one  occasion.  He  had  done  good  service,  attested  by 
thirty-two  wounds  ;  and  he  had  had  his  reward,  good 
measure,  pressed  down,  and  running  over.  He  had 
been  made  in  turn  Marshal,  General-in-chief,  Duke, 
and  Governor  of  the  most  important  province  of 
France,  Burgundy.  More  than  this,  he  had  been 
repaid  by  his  master's  strong  affection.  Yet  all  had 
not  availed  to  keep  him  true.  Inordinately  vain, 
proud  of  his  exploits,  and  ambitious,  his  estimate  of 
the  services  he  had  rendered  made  it  impossible  to 
satisfy  him,  and  he  lent  a  not  unwilling  ear  to  the 
King's  enemies  when  they  sought  to  seduce  him  from 
his  allegiance. 

An  adventurer  named  La  Fin,  in  the  King's  service, 
was  the  chief  channel  of  communication  between  Biron 
and  the  politicians  at  Madrid,  Brussels  and  Turin, 
who  were  plotting  Henri's  ruin — a  man  who,  after 
the  fashion  of  his  kind,  was  in  the  end  to  deliver 
up  to  justice  the  dupes  who  had  trusted  him.  Bribes 
were  offered  to  the  Marshal.  He  was  to  be  given 
in  marriage  a  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Savoy,  richly 


Biron's  Conspiracy  29 

dowered  ;  and  to  be  placed  in  a  position  of  power 
and  influence.  On  the  other  hand,  half-measures  were 
not  to  suffice.  With  Henri  living,  no  successes  would 
have  been  assured.  The  King  was  to  die  ;  and  when, 
later  on,  his  son  was  born,  the  child  was  included  in 
the  murderous  plot.  How  it  was  to  be  carried  out 
was  of  less  importance.  Biron  might  kill  his  master 
out  hunting  ;  the  Comte  d'Auvergne  might  contrive 
his  death  through  his  sister,  the  Marquise  ;  a  ball 
might  settle  the  business  on  the  battle-field. 

To  what  extent  Biron  was  a  party  to  the  darker 
features  of  the  scheme  is  doubtful.  He  was  said  to 
have  listened  to  it  favourably.  He  may  have  been 
slandered  ;  he  certainly  had  opportunities  of  performing 
the  deed  assigned  him,  and  did  not  make  use  of  them. 
It  seems  clear  that  he  had  his  moments  of  repentance, 
times  when  he  would  have  drawn  back  from  the  path 
he  was  treading.  "  Since  God  has  given  him  a  son/' 
he  is  quoted  as  saying  after  the  birth  of  the  Dauphin, 
"let  us  forget  our  dreams."  But  he  did  not  forget 
them.  It  is  proverbially  difficult  for  a  man  to  retrace 
his  steps ;  and,  though  perhaps  flinching  from  the 
thought  of  actual  assassination,  he  was  falling  deeper 
and  deeper  into  the  mire. 

Madame  de  Verneuirs  share  in  the  scheme  remains 
likewise  unproved.  When  the  facts  were  in  course 
of  being  disclosed,  and  their  proper  degrees  of  guilt 
brought  home  to  the  several  participants  in  the  con- 
spiracy, Henri  did  what  he  could  to  shield  the  woman 
he  loved  from  exposure.  So  far  as  she  is  concerned, 
therefore,  it  is  difficult  to  form  a  clear  judgment. 
That  she  was  in  some  measure  an  accomplice  does 


30  The  Making  of  a  King 

not  admit  of  doubt.  At  the  time  the  plot  was  first 
hatching  she  had  been  embittered  by  her  indignation 
and  disappointment  at  the  Florentine  marriage,  and 
would  have  been  ready  to  take  vengeance  for  what 
she  considered,  not  unjustifiably,  the  breach  of  the 
King's  promise  that,  should  she  bear  him  a  son  within 
the  year,  he  would  make  hej:  his  wife.  She  had  been 
told,  and  gave  credit  to  the  assertion,  that  Henri's 
death  would  profit  her  and  her  unborn  child  more  than 
his  life  ;  and,  personally,  her  affection  for  him  seems 
from  first  to  last  to  have  been  small.  The  event  upon 
which  the  King's  promise  had  been  conditional  had 
not  come  to  pass,  but  the  sense  that  she  had  been 
betrayed  remained.  Nevertheless,  the  part  she  actually 
played  in  the  conspiracy  is  involved  in  obscurity. 

The  bribes  offered  to  each  conspirator  were  shaped 
to  meet  their  desires.  Henri  once  removed,  the  spoil 
was  to  be  divided  :  France  was  to  be  split  up,  and 
all  concerned  were  to  take  their  share.  Savoy  was 
assigned  a  portion  of  the  booty,  Spain  another.  Biron 
was  to  reap  a  rich  reward. 

Such  was  the  condition  of  the  plot  already  under- 
mining the  apparent  prosperity  of  King  and  country 
when  the  short  and  successful  campaign  of  1600  had 
taken  place.  Savoy — scarcely  caring,  in  the  transi- 
tional state  of  affairs,  to  make  a  genuine  resistance — 
was  reduced  to  submission.  Since  Henri  was  to  die 
to-morrow,  why  spend  men  and  money  in  circum- 
venting him  to-day  ? 

Biron's  attitude  at  this  stage  was  again  ambiguous. 
Some  said  he  had  engaged  to  lead  the  King  into 
danger  ;  others  asserted  that,  had  this  been  the  case, 


Biron's  Conspiracy  31 

he  repented  and  did  not  fulfil  his  promise.  At  Lyons, 
when  the  war  was  over,  he  made  to  his  master  one 
of  those  half-confessions  sometimes  serving  to  salve  a 
conscience,  sometimes  to  disguise  a  crime.  Resenting 
the  King's  refusal  to  make  over  to  him  the  citadel  of 
Bourg,  he  had,  by  his  own  account,  indulged  in  evil 
dreams.  So  he  told  Henri.  The  King  listened  to 
the  half,  and  took,  or  seemed  to  take,  it  for  the  whole. 
With  generous  imprudence  he  forgave  the  penitent. 

"  Marshal,"  he  said,  "  never  call  Bourg  to  mind 
again  ;  and  I  also  will  never  remember  the  past." 

There  was  more  than  Bourg  that  Biron  would  have 
had  to  forget  before  he  could  accept,  as  freely  as  it  was 
offered,  his  master's  quittance.  Henri  may  have  divined 
it ;  but,  bent  upon  recapturing  the  wandering  affections 
of  his  old  friend  and  comrade,  he  appears  to  have  been 
incapable  of  believing  that  he  would  fail  in  the  end 
to  succeed.  As,  during  the  autumn  weeks  passed  at 
Calais  before  the  Dauphin's  birth,  reports  reached  him 
of  the  Duke's  continued  discontent  ;  of  language  used 
concerning  himself  convicting  the  speaker  of  disloyalty, 
he  still  adhered,  with  pathetic  persistency,  to  his  purpose 
of  winning  him  back  by  kindness  and  trust.  Money 
was  given  him — a  large  sum,  wrung  from  Rosny's 
unwilling  fingers.  To  the  minister's  warnings  Henri 
turned  a  deaf  ear.  Whilst  admitting  incriminating 
facts  and  causes  of  complaint,  he  said  lightly  that 
Biron's  rhodomontades,  his  menaces  and  his  boasts, 
should  not  be  taken  too  literally — he  was  a  man  who 
could  not  refrain  from  speaking  ill  of  others  and 
bragging  of  himself.  When  he  was  in  the  saddle  and 
sword  in  hand,  it  was  a  different  matter.  And,  in 


32  The  Making  of  a  King 

spite  of  remonstrance,  the  King  persisted  in  his  attempt 
to  regain  his  friend,  heaping  fresh  favours  upon  him, 
and  making  him  Envoy-extraordinary  to  England. 

Perhaps,  as  Rosny  imagined,  Henri  had  not  chosen 
the  Marshal  for  this  last  post  without  a  motive.  The 
tragedy  of  Essex's  treason  and  death  was  hardly  a 
year  old,  and  the  King  ma)i  have  fancied  that  the  fate 
of  Elizabeth's  favourite  might  serve  as  a  useful  object- 
lesson  to  the  Duke.  Whether  or  not  the  shrewd  old 
Queen  divined  Henri's  intentions,  she  did  her  best 
to  second  them  and  to  drive  the  lesson  home.  It  may 
be  that  reports  had  made  their  way  across  the  Channel, 
not  to  Biron's  advantage. 

"  He  was  lost  through  pride,"  she  told  the  Ambassa- 
dor, pointing  to  the  head  of  the  man  she  had  loved 
so  well,  still  exposed  to  the  public  view.  "  He  thought 
himself  indispensable.  See  what  he  gained  by  it.  If 
the  King,  my  brother,  believes  me,  he  will  do  what 
has  been  done  in  London.  He  will  cut  off  the  heads 
of  traitors." 

What  effect  the.  ghastly  spectacle  had  on  Biron  is 
not  recorded.  It  did  not  deter  him  from  the  course 
upon  which  he  had  entered.  Bent  upon  his  ruin,  he 
went  his  way,  to  take  up  once  more  the  threads  of  the 
wide-reaching  conspiracy.  Not  long  after  the  Dauphin's 
birth  proofs  of  the  Marshal's  guilt  that  the  King  could 
not  refuse  to  admit  were  in  his  hands.  La  Fin  had 
played  the  part  of  a  double  traitor  and  had  delivered  up 
his  accomplices.  Leaning  on  the  balcony  at  the  Arsenal 
in  close  converse  with  the  only  friend,  perhaps,  who 
was  unfalteringly  true,  Henri  told  Rosny  what  had 
come  to  his  knowledge.  The  story  had  a  double 


: 


The  Queen  and  the  Concini  33 

edge  ;  Biron's  persistent  infidelity  was  his  master's 
defeat.  Henri's  patience  and  long-suffering  had  failed 
to  win  him  back. 

Summoning  La  Fin  to  Fontainebleau,  he  gained 
from  him  all  the  information  he  had  to  give.  Yet 
he  was  determined  to  do  nothing  in  haste.  La  Fin 
was  at  all  events  a  liar — he  had  gone  so  far  as  to 
seek  to  incriminate  Rosny  himself — and  the  King  was 
resolved  that  every  charge  should  be  sifted  before  he 
struck. 

Thus  winter  and  spring  went  by.  At  Saint-Germain 
the  Dauphin  lived  and  throve,  an  additional  obstacle  in 
the  way  of  the  contemplated  dismemberment  of  the 
kingdom.  And  still  the  conspiracy  spread,  developing 
new  features.  Not  only  was  the  child,  as  well  as  his 
father,  marked  for  death  ;  but  none  who,  being  of  the 
blood  royal,  might  aspire  to  the  succession,  were  to  be 
left  alive. 

The  year,  in  spite  of  all  Henri  knew  or  suspected, 
had  opened  cheerfully.  It  was  true  that  less  than  a 
month  after  his  son's  birth  the  King  had  braved  his 
wife's  displeasure  by  an  attempt  to  effect  a  modification 
in  the  footing  to  which  she  had  admitted  her  Italian 
favourites.  Finding  them  both  conversing  with  the 
Queen  when  she  was  in  bed,  he  had  told  Leonora 
sharply  to  confine  herself  to  her  duty  of  arranging  her 

istress's  hair,  adding  that,  as  she  had  no  sense — 
giudicio — he  would  address  himself  to  her  husband. 
Leonora  had  wept  all  the  next  day,  the  Queen  also 
shedding  tears  ;  whilst  Henri,  by  no  means  softened, 
ad  observed  aloud,  when  at  table,  that  if  his  wife 
ould  not  have  Princesses  about  her,  and  be  served 

3 


34  The  Making  of  a  King 

by  them,  or  by  those  who  treated  her  as  a  Queen,  she 
would  not  be  recognised  as  Queen. 

To  Giovannini,  the  Tuscan"  Resident,  Concini — a 
sign  of  his  growing  arrogance — had  behaved  in  such  a 
fashion  that  the  envoy  expressed  his  wish  to  be  re- 
called, to  renounce  all  earthly  courts,  and  to  become 
the  courtier  of  God  alone.. 

Marie  de  Medicis  was  not  a  woman  to  submit 
meekly  to  her  husband's  will,  and  her  refusal  to  admit 
the  Marquise  to  her  presence  may  have  been  a  blow 
struck  in  return  for  the  King's  attack  upon  her 
favourites.  She  did  not,  however,  persevere  in  the 
determination  she  had  announced  ;  and  by  the  end 
of  January  King,  Queen,  and  Marquise  were  all 
apparently  on  friendly  terms,  and  were  visiting  the 
Dauphin  at  Saint-Germain  together.  "  The  King  and 
Queen  came  [to  the  nursery]  at  one  o'clock,"  records 
Heroard,  "  the  King  and  the  Marquise  at  five.  He 
laughed  much  and  played  with  them." 

Again  and  again  Henri  is  found  enjoying  at  the 
chateau  a  respite  from  the  graver  cares  pressing  upon 
him  with  increasing  urgency  ;  sometimes  amusing  the 
child  as  he  lies  in  his  cradle  ;  watching  him  rocked  ; 
having  him  brought  to  be  present  at  his  supper  ; 
or  walking  with  him  on  the  terrace  in  the  pleasant 
spring  weather.  Yet  in  the  background  of  his  mind, 
as  he  played  with  his  little  son,  must  have  been  the 
thought  of  the  traitors  who  were  laying  their  plots  for 
his  own  destruction  and  that  of  his  heir.  Worse  than 
all,  he  cannot,  loath  as  he  was  to  admit  it,  have 
escaped  the  suspicion  that  the  Marquise  was  implicated 
in  their  designs.  Amongst  her  many  sins  over-caution 


The  Queen  and  Madame  de  Verneuil       35 

was  not  included,  and  some  at  least  of  the  stories 
current  concerning  her  must  have  reached  his  ears, 
affording  him  matter  for  reflection. 

"  The  Florentine  may  have  her  son,"  she  had 
declared.  "  I  have  my  Dauphin.  The  King  was  my 
husband  before  he  was  hers,"  refusing  also  to  accede  to 
Henri's  desire  that  the  small  pretender  should  be  placed 
at  Saint-Germain,  to  be  the  associate  of  "all  the  bastards 
there."  A  singular  feature  of  the  case  was  the  degree 
of  influence  she  was  believed  to  exercise  over  matters 
which  might  have  been  considered  wholly  beyond  her 
control.  According  to  the  Tuscan  envoy  she  was 
reported  to  have  a  voice  in  the  arrangements  of  the 
royal  nursery,  and  was  rumoured  to  have  been  instru- 
mental in  placing  Madame  de  Montglat  at  its  head. 
He  had  been  told  by  a  competent  authority,  added  the 
Italian,  that  should  the  King  die,  and  the  Marquise's 
son  fall  into  powerful  hands,  trouble  might  come  of  it. 
He  further  lamented — a  curious  proof  of  the  Queen's 
policy  at  this  moment — the  caresses  lavished  by  Marie 
on  her  rival,  deploring  the  fact  that  no  one  had  courage 
to  open  her  eyes. 

If  the  Queen's  eyes  had  not  been  opened  by  all  that 
had  passed  since  her  marriage  it  might  have  seemed 
difficult  to  perform  the  feat.  Giovannini,  however, 
was  determined  that  she  should  not  continue  ignorant 
of  the  true  state  of  affairs,  and  took  his  measures 
accordingly.  An  Italian  priest,  Torricello  by  name, 
had  undertaken  to  place  Marie  on  her  guard,  and, 
hether  or  not  by  means  of  his  intervention,  she 
uickly  changed  her  attitude  of  conciliation.  By  May 

e   had  adopted  the  line  she  pursued,  though  inter- 


36  The  Making  of  a  King 

mittently,  to  the  end,  had  refused  to  admit  the  Marquise 
to  her  presence,  and  had  made  complaint  to  the  King 
of  her  insolence  with  regard  to  herself  and  to  the 
Dauphin. 

Irritated  and  angry,  probably  with  both  women 
alike,  Henri  can  scarcely  have  blamed  his  wife.  But 
at  the  present  moment,  engrossed  by  other  and  serious 
subjects  of  preoccupation,  he  had  little  time  to  spare 
for  domestic  cares.  The  conspiracy  was  drawing 
towards  a  head,  and  it  was  clear  that  steps  must  soon 
be  taken  to  bring  its  promoters  to  justice. 


! 


CHAPTER    IV 
1602 

Progress  of  Biron's  conspiracy — The  traitors  at  Saint-Germain — Biron's 
letter — Henri  ready  to  pardon  him— He  refuses  to  admit  his  guilt — 
Is  arrested — The  King  and  Madame  de  Verneuil  at  Saint-Germain. 

THE  present  condition  of  affairs  had  produced  a 
situation  involving  a  severe  strain  upon  the 
temper  and  nerves  of  the  man  against  whom  so  many 
powerful  enemies  were  leagued  together.  He  knew 
much,  he  suspected  more ;  but  his  policy  was  to 
disguise  both  knowledge  and  suspicion  until  the  time 
should  come  when  an  effective  blow  could  be  struck. 
Practically  and  morally  assured  of  the  guilt  of  men 
with  whom  he  was  keeping  up  the  semblance  of 
friendly  intimacy,  he  was  compelled  to  treat  them,  as 
yet  unconvicted  of  their  crime,  as  if  no  suspicion  of 
their  treason  was  harboured  in  his  mind,  and  to  permit 
them  to  visit  his  heir.  Now  it  is  Epernon  who  has 
brought  his  three  sons  to  pay  their  respects  to  their 
uture  sovereign.  All  kiss  the  Dauphin's  hands,  and 
e  Duke,  "  regarding  him  with  attention,  speaks  in 
praise  of  him."  A  week  or  two  later  M.  de  Bouillon, 
steeped  in  treachery,  is  one  of  the  guests  at  Saint- 
Germain.  On  the  same  day  Hieronimo  Taxis,  Spanish 
mbassador,  representative  of  the  Power  most  per- 
istejit  in  hatred  of  the  King  and  in  league  with  all 

37 


38  The  Making  of  a  King 

his  foes,  comes  bareheaded  to  wait  upon  the  child, 
explaining,  as  he  bows  low,  that  he  had  wished  not  to 
leave  the  country  without  seeing  "him.  With  Bouillon 
and  the  men  who  had  accompanied  him  to  Saint- 
Germain,  Taxis  watches  the  boy,  and  the  possibility 
of  the  Spanish  marriage  which  eventually  came  to 
pass  is  discussed,  as  though  0the  guests  had  no  know- 
ledge of  the  plot  laid  to  cut  short  the  little  life. 
More  singular  still,  towards  the  end  of  April  the  arch- 
traitor,  Biron  himself,  has  the  audacity  to  send  his 
brother-in-law  to  carry  a  letter  from  him  to  Madame 
de  Montglat,  filled  with  professions  of  loyal  attach- 
ment. 

"  Madame,"  he  wrote,  "  my  desire  to  have  news  of 
Monseigneur  the  Dauphin  causes  me  to  send  this 
messenger  to  entreat  you  to  give  me  tidings  of  him  .  .  . 
for  1  have  a  passion  and  affection  for  him,  hoping  for 
his  happy  growth  ;  being  of  those  who  believe  him 
to  be  given  by  God  for  the  maintenance  of  this  State. 
He  could  not  fail  to  be  generous,  virtuous,  and  for- 
tunate, being  born  of  the  King,  my  master,  who 
possesses  all  these  gifts  more  than  any  other  King  or 
Prince  has  possessed  them.  For  my  own  part,  I  figure 
him  to  myself  as  the  fairest,  most  amiable  Prince  that 
ever  was  or  ever  shall  be  ;  for  all  my  inclination  is  to 
love  him  ;  and,  besides  the  royalty  the  King  will  one 
day  bequeath  to  him,  he  will  leave  him  good  and 
loyal  subjects  and  servants.  1  should  regret  it  if  death 
should  overtake  me  before  I  have  given  proof  of  this 
my  ardent  zeal,  vowed  to  him  as  from  the  humble  and 
obedient  servant  of  the  King,  his  father." 

A  strange   letter,  with  its  gratuitous   lies   and  pro- 


Visitors  at  Saint^Germain  39 

fessions,  to  come  from  a  man  who  could  not  have 
been  wholly  base.  Was  it  a  mere  blind,  a  clumsy 
attempt  to  shield  the  writer  from  suspicion,  the  out- 
come perhaps  of  a  moment's  panic  ?  Or  was  it  the 
expression  of  a  mood  of  remorse  ?  Did  the  traitor 
still  conceive  it  possible  to  retrace  his  steps  and  to 
recapture  his  past  ?  It  is  impossible  to  say. 

Another  visitor,  the  Comte  d'Auvergne,  Madame 
de  Verneuil's  brother,  who  shared  Biron's  pre-eminence 
in  treason,  was  manifestly  ill  at  ease  in  the  presence 
of  his  intended  victim.  "  He  remained  a  short  half- 
hour,"  says  Heroard,  "  leaning  against  the  balustrade, 
his  face  half  covered  by  his  cloak,  and  speaking  to 
Madame  de  Montglat  in  confused  and  ill-chosen 
language.'' 

It  may  be  that,  in  spite  of  the  assumption  of 
innocence  implied  by  his  presence  at  the  chateau,  he 
remembered  uneasily  that,  a  fortnight  earlier,  at  Fon- 
tainebleau,  the  King  had  given  signs  that  he  was  on 
his  guard.  As  the  two  were  riding  together  Auvergne 
had  fallen  behind,  and  Henri,  noting  it,  had  bidden 
him  pass  on  in  front,  adding,  in  the  ear  of  a  com- 
panion, that  no  one  was  more  capable  of  venturing 
on  a  vigliaccheria  than  the  Count.  Yet  this  man, 
whom  Henri  believed  might  stab  him  in  the  back, 
was  permitted  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  Dauphin. 
His  visit  to  Saint-Germain  had  been  made  on  May  21. 
Before  more  than  a  month  had  gone  by  he,  with  Biron, 
was  lodged  in  the  Bastille. 

The  decisive  step  was  taken  on  June  2 1  ;  nor  was 
it  without  hesitation  that  even  then  it  was  resolved 
upon.  A  curious  amount  of  sympathy  appears  to  have 


40  The  Making  of  a  King 

been  evoked  by  the  great  soldier  who  had  fallen  into 
treason,  the  King  telling  Marie  that,  had  he  been 
certain  of  his  life  outlasting  that  of  the  Marshal,  he 
would  gladly  have  pardoned  him  and  trusted  to  his 
own  vigilance  to  ward  off  evil ;  but  that  he  could  not 
leave  her  and  his  children  a  like  thorn  in  their  foot. 
To  himself  the  final  determination  to  convict  his 
enemies  of  their  designs  must  have  put  an  end  to 
a  condition  of  almost  intolerable  tension. 

It  was  not  only  the  scene  with  Auvergne  at  Fon- 
tainebleau  which  shows  that  he  was  on  the  watch  lest 
a  familiar  associate  should  attempt  his  life.  An  inci- 
dent recorded  by  the  Tuscan  envoy  points  to  the  same 
sense  of  possible  danger.  Admitted  to  an  audience 
at  the  Tuileries,  Giovannini  heard  the  King  desire  all 
present  to  withdraw  to  a  distance,  so  that  his  view 
of  the  great  avenue  planted  by  Catherine  de  Medicis 
should  be  unimpeded.  Then,  signing  to  the  Florentine 
to  approach,  he  disowned,  with  a  laugh,  the  inter- 
pretation that  might  be  placed  upon  his  order.  It  was 
not,  he  said,  because  he  was  afraid,  the  very  disclaimer 
showing  what  was  in  his  mind.  Other  and  more  secret 
perils  than  open  murder  were  apprehended.  It  had 
been  predicted  that  four  persons  would  seek  to  destroy 
the  King  by  means  of  poison,  and  he  was  said  to 
be  always  attended  by  his  physician,  provided  with 
an  antidote. 

During  April  and  May  his  usual  visits  to  Saint- 
Germain  had  been  omitted.  To  safeguard  his  son's 
inheritance — perhaps  his  life — demanded  at  the  moment 
his  whole  thought  and  care  ;  and  he  had  been  absent 
jn  the  provinces,  where  his  presence  was  needed  to 


s 


Biron's  Conspiracy  41 

counteract  the  intrigues  of  his  enemies  and  to  frustrate 
their  endeavours  to  create  a  spirit  of  discontent  in  the 
country. 

At  Blois,  whither  he  was  accompanied  by  Epernon 
and  Bouillon,  whilst  refraining  from  making  any  direct 
or  specific  charge,  he  spoke  to  both  in  a  fashion  to 
sound  them.  The  first,  truly  or  falsely,  succeeded  in 
satisfying  the  King  of  his  comparative  innocence. 
Bouillon,  interrogated  separately,  answered  at  length 
in  vague  and  confused  terms.  Although  not  wholly 
convinced  by  his  professions  of  loyalty,  Henri  for  the 
moment  gave  no  indication  of  distrust.  In  neither 
case  was  there  definite  proof  of  guilt,  and,  acting  on 
Rosny's  advice,  he  determined  to  take  no  present  action 
with  regard  to  them. 

Biron  had  remained  so  far  at  a  distance  in  his 
province  of  Burgundy,  the  reiterated  and  friendly  sum- 
mons sent  him  by  his  master  notwithstanding.  Would 
he  in  the  end  yield  and  report  himself  to  the  King, 
or  would  he  give  colour  to  all  the  dark  charges  against 
him  by  refusing  obedience  to  the  royal  mandate  ? 
These  must  have  been  the  questions  in  all  men's  minds 
as  they  looked  on  and  awaited  the  event.  In  spite  of 
what  was  known  or  suspected,  he  still  occupied  the 
ostensible  position  of  the  King's  trusted  servant  ;  and 

till  Henri  clung,  strangely,  persistently,  to  the  hope 
transforming    the    appearance   into    the   reality,   of 
recapturing    his    old    friend's    former    affection,    and 
bringing    him    back     to    the    path    of    rectitude    and 

onour. 
At  Orleans  he  now  gave  him  rendezvous,  bidding 

im    repair    thither  for    the    feast   of    Corpus  Christi, 


42  The  Making  of  a  King 

But  the  feast  was  over  and  the  King  had  left  Orleans 
before  Biron  determined  on  obedience  ;  so  that,  when 
at  last  he  set  out  to  join  the  "Court,  it  was  towards 
Fontainebleau  that  he  turned  his  steps.  With  what 
fears  and  misgivings  he  came  none  can  tell.  He  must 
have  become  aware  that  resistance  was  impossible. 
Rosny  had  taken  his  measures.  On  the  pretext  of 
replacing  old  cannon  by  new,  he  had  withdrawn  the 
artillery  which  had  been  under  the  Marshal's  charge, 
leaving  him  thus  without  means  of  defence.  Bodies 
of  men,  moreover,  closing  up  behind  him  as  he  rode 
towards  Fontainebleau,  cut  off  his  retreat.  He  was 
caught  in  a  snare. 

Yet  never  had  captor  been  in  a  more  merciful  mood 
than  his  injured  master.  Bent  upon  forgiveness,  as  a 
man  of  a  different  temper  might  have  been  bent  upon 
revenge,  Henri  continued  to  cherish  the  hope  of  saving 
the  culprit  from  the  consequences  of  his  misdeeds. 

"  He  is  an  unhappy  man,"  he  told  Rosny  ;  "  I 
should  like  to  pardon  him,  to  forget  all  that  is  past, 
and  to  be  as  good  to  him  as  ever.  I  pity  him  ;  and  it 
goes  against  my  heart  to  injure  a  brave  man  who  has 
served  me  so  long,  and  with  whom  I  have  been  on  such 
familiar  terms.  But  I  fear  that,  should  I  pardon  him, 
he  will  pardon  neither  me,  my  children,  nor  my  realm  ; 
for  he  has  confessed  nought,  and  he  treats  me  like  a 
man  who  harbours  ill  thoughts  in  his  heart "  ;  adding 
orders  that  Rosny  should  assure  the  Marshal  that,  if 
only  he  would  make  a  clean  breast  of  the  past,  full 
forgiveness  awaited  him. 

In  the  meantime  Biron's  reception  at  the  palace  had 
not  tended  to  allay  his  apprehensions.  He  had  found 


Biron  at  Fontainebleau  43 

Henri  in  the  courtyard  ;  and  it  was  observed  that 
when  little  Vendome  would  have  flung  himself,  after 
his  usual  fashion,  into  the  arms  of  his  father's  friend, 
the  King  checked  the  child,  placing  him  behind  him 
whilst  he  inclined  his  head  in  silent  greeting.  Mount- 
ing the  staircase,  he  reached  an  uncovered  corridor 
above  the  courtyard.  Then,  turning  to  Biron  : 

"  Pass  in,"  he  said  briefly,  bidding  the  rest  of  the 
company  to  wait  outside. 

That  long-deferred  interview  proved  decisive.  La 
Fin,  the  double  traitor  and  informer,  was  also  at  Fon- 
tainebleau, and  had  found  an  opportunity  to  whisper 
in  Biron's  ear  that  nothing  was  known.  Fortified  by 
this  assurance,  the  Duke  persisted  in  his  fatal  assump- 
tion of  injured  innocence.  He  had  nothing  to  tell, 
nothing  to  confess.  Rosny,  acting  on  the  King's 
directions  and  striving  to  induce  him  to  admit  his  guilt, 
was  met  by  the  same  dogged  denial  of  the  existence 
of  any  subject-matter  for  confession,  with  the  exception 
of  the  intrigues  already  pardoned  by  Henri  two  years 
earlier. 

The  unhappy  man  had  sealed  his  fate.  Hearing 
Rosny's  report  of  failure,  the  King's  long  patience 
was  exhausted  ;  and  it  was  determined,  at  a  consulta- 
tion held  between  King,  Queen,  and  minister,  that 
Biron,  with  the  other  chief  conspirator,  Auvergne, 
should  be  arrested  that  night.  Henri  had  been  con- 
vinced that  clemency  would  be  a  crime. 

"  He  said  to  a  servant  of  his  who  repeated  it  to  me," 
wrote  the  Florentine  Resident,  "  that  he  forgave  all 
their  designs  against  his  own  person ;  but  that  it  would 
be  to  fail  in  what  he  owed  to  himself  were  he  not  to 


44  The  Making  of  a  King 

leave  justice  to  deal  with  their  machinations  against  the 
Dauphin  and  the  realm." 

It  may  be  that  he  had  seen  br  heard  of  the  letter 
containing  Biron's  protestations  of  love  and  loyalty 
towards  his  little  son,  and  that  the  thought  of  the 
unconscious  victim  at  Saint-Germain  steadied  his  hand 
to  strike  the  final  blow. 

The  sole  question  was  as  to  the  conduct  of  the 
affair.  Henri  would  have  liked  to  apprehend  the 
criminals  in  their  beds.  He  recoiled  from  the  thought 
of  a  possible  struggle  and  of  bloodshed  in  the  palace. 
Rosny  took  a  different  view,  and  in  the  end  Rosny 
prevailed. 

To  the  few  who  were  aware  of  what  was  in  con- 
templation the  evening  was  an  anxious  one.  In  his 
small  chamber  apart,  the  minister  awaited  the  event, 
with  an  escort  ready  to  convey  the  prisoners  to  Paris. 
Midnight  had  come,  and  nothing  had  been  done.  In 
the  outer  room  Henri's  guests  played,  conversed,  or 
slumbered.  In  his  private  apartment  the  King  and 
Biron  had  engaged  in  a  game.  The  courtiers  were 
dispersing  to  their  several  lodgings,  when  it  is  believed 
that  Henri  made  an  ultimate  appeal  to  his  old  comrade 
to  save  himself  by  speech.  If  so  it  was  vain ;  Biron 
persisted  in  his  fatal  policy  of  silence.  Then  the  King 
bade  him  a  last  farewell. 

"Adieu,"  he  said,  "  Baron  de  Biron." 

Upon  the  words,  sinister  in  their  brevity,  curiously 
different  interpretations  have  been  put.  To  Michelet 
the  reversion  to  the  title  under  which  Biron  had  fought 
by  his  master's  side  during  the  years  of  storm  and 
stress  they  had  faced  together,  represented  a  reminder 


K1 


Biron's  Arrest  45 

of  the  past  —  a  final  call  to  repentance.  To  others 
the  farewell,  "  cruel  et  laconique,"  has  seemed  to  express 
the  tardy  harshness  of  a  man  betrayed. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  interpretation  of  the 
King's  words  was  supplied  to  Biron.  As  he  left  the 
royal  presence  Vitry,  Captain  of  the  Guard,  laid  his 
hand  upon  his  shoulder  and  demanded  his  sword.  He 
was  a  prisoner. 

Auvergne,  who  had  retired  earlier  to  his  apartment, 
was  arrested  in  his  bed,  and  the  captives,  taken  by 
water  to  the  Arsenal,  were  quickly  lodged  in  the 
Bastille.  France  and  its  heir  were  delivered  from 
the  peril  that  had  threatened  them.  With  Biron 
and  Auvergne,  the  conspiracy  was  deprived  of  its 
heads. 

It  was  on  a  Wednesday  that  the  stroke  was  dealt. 
To  the  King,  vacillating  long  between  the  dictates 
of  compassion  and  justice,  the  very  fact  that  a  de- 
cision had  been  taken  must  have  brought  relief.  On 
the  following  Monday  he  snatched  a  few  hours  from 
graver  cares  to  visit  Saint-Germain  :  "  The  King 
arrives  at  midday,  kisses  [the  Dauphin]  and  plays 
with  him.  The  Queen  arrives  at  half-past  one  ;  finds 
Monseigneur  the  Dauphin  at  the  foot  of  the  grand 
staircase.  She  turns  suddenly  very  red,  and  kisses 
im  on  the  side  of  his  forehead."  Before  the  end  of 
he  week  Henri  was  again  at  the  chateau,  when  a 
ingular  scene  is  recorded.  There  can  be  no  doubt 
that  the  Comte  d'Auvergne's  sister  was  implicated  in 
guilt,  nor  is  it  conceivable  that  the  King  could 
ucceed  in  altogether  blinding  himself  to  this  fact. 
Yet  on  Saturday,  June  22,  there  was  a  meeting  at 


46  The  Making  of  a  King 

Saint-Germain  between  Henri  and  Madame  de  Ver- 
neuil,  when  he  was  in  a  mood  as  gay  and  debonair 
as  if  no  network  of  intrigue  nad  been  escaped  and 
apparently  untroubled  by  the  thought  that  the  woman 
he  loved  was  in  league  with  his  enemies. 

Arriving  alone,  he  found  amusement  in  watching 
the  child  eat  his  broth,  himself  drinking  what  was 
left  of  it.  "  Should  any  one  ask  now  what  the  King 
is  doing,"  he  said,  "  it  can  be  answered  that  he  is 
taking  his  broth."  There  was  presently  a  second 
arrival.  It  was  the  Marquise,  who  also  visited  the 
nursery  and  caressed  her  rival's  son,  though,  as  those 
who  looked  curiously  on  imagined,  with  effort.  More- 
over, when,  that  same  evening,  Henri  started  on  his 
return  to  Paris,  nothing  would  content  him  but  that 
she  should  take  the  child  in  his  coach  to  the  end  of 
the  courtyard,  where  he  was  surrendered  to  his  lawful 
guardians. 

Incapable  of  freeing  himself  from  the  fetters  that 
bound  him,  Henri  not  only  condoned  the  Marquise's 
offences  but  was  not  ashamed  to  place  in  her  arms 
the  child  he  loved,  and  whose  ruin  she  would,  if  she 
could,  have  compassed.  He  was,  wrote  the  Florentine 
envoy,  completely  enslaved  by  his  passion.  On  another 
occasion,  about  this  time,  he  went  still  further,  and 
seated  the  Marquise  next  the  Queen  in  the  Queen's 
own  carriage.  It  was  not  strange  that  when  it 
further  became  clear  that,  whilst  Biron  was  to  pay 
the  uttermost  penalty  for  his  crime,  the  Comte 
d'Auvergne  was  to  escape,  Marie  de  Medicis  was 
loud  in  her  complaints. 

"The     King's    life    and    that    of    his     son     is     in 


The  Escape  of  Auvergne 


47 


question,"  she  cried  bitterly,  "  and  the  mistress  carries 
the  day." 

She  was  justified  in  her  charge.  The  significance 
of  the  interruption  of  the  course  of  justice  was  clear 
as  daylight  to  all  the  world.  A  commission  was 
issued  to  the  Parlement  for  the  trial  of  Biron,  and 
in  it  was  no  mention  of  Biron's  chief  accomplice, 
Madame  de  Verneuil's  brother,  the  Comte  d'Auvergne. 


CHAPTER   V 
1602—1604 

Biron's  execution — Pardon  of  Auvergne — Madarae's  birth — The  nursery 
at  Saint-Germain — The  King's  children — Monseigneur  the  Dauphin 
— Domestic  difficulties — Concini  and  Leonora — Rivalries  at  Court — 
The  King's  illness — Talk  of  a  Spanish  marriage — Henri  complains 
to  Rosny  of  his  wife — And  of  Madame  de  Verneuil — Death  of  his 
sister — Rosny  opposes  the  King — The  Dauphin's  training — Friction 
between  father  and  son. 

"  [rT^HE  Dauphin]  is  taken  to  see  the  deer  hunted 
!  by  the  King  go  by.  ...  He  is  carried  to 
the  King  in  bed,  hurt  by  a  fall  he  had  in  chasing  the 
deer.  He  is  holding  a  stick  ;  I  take  a  twig  from 
the  faggot  and  strike  it  against  his  stick,  as  in  fencing. 
The  game  pleases  him,  and  he  pursues  me,  laughing, 
round  the  room.  All  the  rest  of  the  day  he  is  peace- 
ful and  very  gay.  This  day,  at  five  o'clock,  the  head 
of  the  Marechal  de  Biron  was  cut  off  at  the  Bastille." 

So  runs  the  entry  for  July  31  in  Maitre  Heroard's 
journal. 

The  King,  said  the  Spanish  Ambassador,  was  so 
defait  after  the  execution,  that  he  might  have  been 
taken  for  the  man  who  had  been  executed.  The  two 
accounts  are  not  irreconcilable.  Amusing  himself  with 
his  little  son,  or  hunting  the  deer,  Henri  may  have 
sought  distraction  from  the  sorrow  of  a  man  who 

has  been  compelled  to  deliver  up  his  friend  to  death. 

48 


Biron  Executed  49 

"  To-day  I  love  none  but  you,"  he  told  Rosny,  the 
words  marking  the  loss  he  had  sustained. 

Yet  he  had  never  wavered  in  his  determination  to 
allow  justice  to  take  its  course.  Biron 's  guilt  was 
clear.  In  one  respect  he  showed  himself  a  man  of 
honour.  Striving  to  throw  suspicion  upon  the  guilt- 
less, he  remained  true  to  his  genuine  accomplices.  It 
may  be  that  his  master  was  grateful  for  a  silence 
which  made  it  possible  to  pardon  what  was  not  too 
manifestly  brought  to  light.  The  Constable  Mont- 
morency,  Auvergne,  Bouillon,  and  others — above  all, 
the  Marquise — could  be  the  more  easily  permitted  to 
escape  the  consequences  of  their  guilt.  The  part 
played  by  Spain  and  Savoy  could  be  politicly  ignored, 
and  only  added  to  the  secret  reckoning  against  them, 
to  be  settled  at  a  future  day. 

It  was  curious  that,  by  one  of  the  caprices  to  which 
the  multitude  is  subject,  the  common  people  displayed 
a  strange  anxiety  to  honour  the  memory  of  the  arch- 
traitor,  Biron  ;  whilst  Auvergne,  faithless  to  most, 
remained  true  to  his  friend,  and  swore  to  bring  up 
with  his  own  an  illegitimate  child  the  Marshal  had 
left  fatherless. 

Auvergne  himself  made  confession  and  received  a 
pardon.  The  Constable  was  likewise  forgiven  ;  and 
Bouillon  would  doubtless  have  been  treated  with  no 
less  leniency  had  he  not  preferred  to  ensure  his  safety 
by  keeping  at  a  distance. 

To  Biron's  brother-in-law,  the  Due  de  la  Force, 
Henri  wrote  to  express  his  continued  affection,  coupled 
with  a  desire  that  the  Duke's  eldest  son  should 
be  placed  near  his  person.  Biron,  he  told  him,  had 

4 


50  The  Making  of  a  King 

died  confessing  his  guilt,  but  neither  asking  pardon, 
naming  his  confederates,  nor  praying  to  God.  u  I 
believe,"  added  the  King,  "  he  clid  not  know  how.  .  .  . 
He  begged,  dying,  that  all  the  world  might  be  told 
that  he  had  died  a  good  Catholic,  without  being  able 
to  say  what  a  Catholic  was." 

Penitent  or  impenitent^  Biron  was  dead,  and  the 
kingdom  was  consequently  left  in  comparative  tran- 
quillity. The  Prince  de  Joinville,  it  was  true,  started 
a  fresh  intrigue  with  Spain  ;  but,  treating  it  as  "  vraie 
niaiserie  d'enfant,"  the  King  punished  the  culprit  no 
more  severely  than  by  a  few  days'  confinement  to  his 
own  house.  Of  Biron's  accomplices,  Auvergne  soon 
regained  his  place  in  his  master's  favour;  Bouillon 
nursed  his  disappointment  at  Castres  and  there  hatched 
new  plots  ;  and  the  Marquise  was,  unfortunately, 
too  necessary  to  Henri's  happiness  to  be  kept  in 
disgrace. 

In  November  Marie  de  Medicis  gave  birth  to  her 
eldest  daughter,  afterwards  married  to  Philip  IV.  of 
Spain. 

Belonging  to  the  inferior  sex,  little  Madame  was 
greeted  with,  at  the  best,  resignation.  The  Queen 
was  said  to  have  wept  bitterly  ;  the  King,  though  him- 
self disappointed,  did  his  best  to  comfort  her  by 
saying  lightly  that,  had  she  not  been  of  her  daughter's 
sex,  she  would  not  have  been  Queen  of  France,  and 
that,  thank  God,  they  were  not  without  means  of 
providing  for  the  child.  "  My  wife,"  he  wrote  to 
Madame  de  Montglat,  "was  confined  yesterday  morning 
at  nine  o'clock,  with  what  it  pleased  God — a  girl." 
A  girl,  however,  opened  the  way  to  future  possibilities 


The  Children  at  Saint^Germain  51 

the  way  of  alliances,  already  taking  shape  in  Henri's 
lind.     To  the  Grand-duke  of  Tuscany  he  wrote  that 
the  Queen  had  been  delivered  of  a  fair  daughter,  u  de 
sorte  que  maintenant  j'ai  manage." 

The  more  important  question  of  a  wife  for  the 
Dauphin  was  also,  if  informally,  under  consideration, 
those  around  him  discussing  the  possibility  of  his 
finding  a  bride  in  the  Infanta,  Anne  of  Austria,  who 
eventually  became  his  wife.  Heroard,  taking  as  usual 
a  favourable  view  of  his  charge's  intelligence,  perceived 
indications  that  the  idea  was  not  unwelcome  to  him. 
"  He  listens  to  the  stories  Mademoiselle  de  Ventelet 
tells  him  of  the  Infanta,  and  laughs  at  them.  .  .  .  He 
was  screaming  violently.  Mademoiselle  de  Ventelet 
bids  him  good  morning  on  behalf  of  the  Infanta.  He 
is  appeased  at  once,  and  begins  to  laugh." 

A  constant  visitor  at  Saint-Germain  at  all  times 
when  he  could  find  leisure  to  resort  thither,  it  was 
a  strangely  assorted  group  that  shared  the  King's 
thought  and  care.  Cesar  de  Vendome  was  only  an 
occasional  guest  at  the  chateau,  being,  by  reason  of 
his  age,  more  constantly  attendant  on  his  father. 
But  his  brother,  Alexandre,  some  three  years  older 
than  the  Dauphin,  as  well  as  his  sister,  had  their 
home  there  ;  and  to  these  were  presently  to  be  added, 
in  spite  of  their  mother's  protests,  the  son  and  daughter 
of  the  Marquise  de  Verneuil.  Lastly,  the  children  of 
Marie  de  Medicis — six  in  all — were  to  take,  one  by 
one,  their  places  in  the  royal  nurseries. 

Over   this   motley  little   company  Monseigneur  the 
Dauphin,  as  the  years  went  by,  was  to  reign  supreme, 
one  amongst  them  venturing  to  dispute  his  sove- 


52  The  Making  of  a  King 

reignty.  Save  when  the  King  visited  Saint-Germain, 
his  son  was  lord  over  all.  When  Henri  was  at  the 
chateau,  on  the  other  hand,  he  was  punctilious,  rough 
soldier  as  he  was,  in  demanding  due  respect  from  his 
heir  and  in  enforcing  the  obedience  which  others 
found  it  difficult  to  exact  from  the  spoilt  child. 

"  Carried  to  the  court-yard  to  meet  the  King/'  re- 
cords Heroard  on  one  occasion,  "  he  does  not  salute 
him  till  the  King  pulls  off  his  hat,  putting  it  on  again 
when  the  King  bids  him,  <  Be  covered,  Monsieur/ 
The  Dauphin  dances  a  branle,  giving  his  hand  to 
Alexandre  Monsieur,  the  King  having  bidden  him 
to  do  so." 

Court  etiquette  was  rigidly  observed,  and  the  day 
ended  with  the  baby's  shirt  being  handed  to  him 
by  his  cousin,  the  Comte  de  Soissons,  Prince  of  the 
Blood.  On  New  Year's  Eve,  passed  by  the  King  and 
Queen  at  Saint-Germain,  the  Dauphin  was  promoted 
to  offer  his  father  his  napkin  at  dinner,  and  so  in  peace 
the  year  closed. 

Making  the  best  of  what  she  must  have  felt  from 
many  points  of  view  to  be  a  bad  business,  Marie  de 
Medicis  appears  to  have  reconciled  herself  temporarily 
to  the  unsatisfactory  conditions  of  her  married  life. 
It  would  nevertheless  have  required  no  great  insight 
to  perceive  that,  taking  into  consideration  the  characters 
of  husband  and  wife,  and  the  impossibility  that  their 
chosen  favourites  and  counsellors  should  conduce  to 
peace,  storms  in  the  future  were  inevitable.  On  the 
one  side  was  the  King,  not  without  a  determination  to 
do  his  duty  by  the  mother  of  his  children  in  matters 
practical  and  material,  but  wholly  destitute  of  affection 


Dissensions  at  Court  53 

for  her  and  liable  to  be  made  use  of  as  the  tool  of 
another  woman.  Over  against  him  was  Marie  de 
Medicis,  with,  as  friends  and  confidants,  Concini  and 
his  wife,  distrusted  with  justice  by  Henri,  rapacious, 
ambitious,  and  in  all  respects  dangerous  advisers. 
Towards  the  end  of  the  year  Concini  had  been  entrusted 
by  the  Grand -duke  with  a  mission  to  Spain,  making 
a  mystery  of  the  matter  and  giving  out  that  he  was 
bound  for  England,  though  his  true  destination  was 
known  to  all.  Marie  herself  was  annoyed  by  the 
incident,  calculated  to  lessen  the  small  amount  of  credit 
she  possessed  with  the  King,  who  told  her,  with  dis- 
pleasure, that  her  uncle  had  treated  him  better  before 
they  had  become  connected  through  his  marriage. 
The  Florentine,  Giovannini,  reiterated  his  entreaty  to 
be  recalled.  The  Queen,  he  said,  did  not  trust  him  ; 
Concini  was  his  enemy  ;  old,  weary,  sick,  he  now 
only  wanted  to  be  the  servant  of  God. 

The  rivalries  at  Court  found  their  reflection  at 
Saint-Germain.  The  attendants  of  the  infant  heir  had 
already  inspired  him  with  a  marked  dislike  for  his 
father's  special  friend,  Rosny  ;  against  whom,  as  con- 
trolling the  finances,  they  had  their  private  grievances. 
On  the  other  hand,  a  scene  which  took  place  at  the 
chateau  on  the  occasion  of  a  visit  paid  by  Concini 
seems  to  indicate  that  his  mother's  favourites  were  not 
more  popular. 

Displaying  his  toys,  the  child  pointed  out  some  dolls, 
representing  in  miniature  the  Queen,  Madame  and 
Mademoiselle  de  Guise,  with  the  Marquise  de  Guerche- 
ville,  all  placed  in  one  of  the  royal  carriages.  Leonora 
was  absent  from  the  group. 


54  The  Making  of  a  King 

"  '  Monsieur,'  asked  Concini,  noticing  it,  c  where  is 
my  wife's  place  ? ' 

"  Saying  '  Ah  ! '  he  shows  him  an  outside  seat  at  the 
back  of  the  coach.  He  will  not  accept  a  piece  of  pre- 
serve from  the  Sieur  Concini,  .  .  .  draws  back,  looking 
at  him  as  if  importune." 

Another  time,  again  not  improbably  interpreting 
correctly  the  sentiments  of  those  around  him,  it  was 
observed  that  when  Madame  de  Verneuil  brought  her 
son,  a  week  or  two  younger  than  the  Dauphin,  to 
pay  a  visit  at  the  chateau,  the  boy  regarded  "  M.  de 
Verneuil  "  with  coldness  ;  and  that  though  he  had  at 
first  received  the  mother  graciously,  he  resented  the 
familiarity,  when  she  ventured  to  touch  his  hair,  with 
a  blow.  A  significant  scene  followed. 

"  Monsieur,"  asked  one  of  little  Verneuil's  attendants, 
"where  is  M.  le  Dauphin  ?  " 

Striking  his  own  breast  the  child  pointed  to  himself, 
"  then,  being  rebuked,  indicates  M.  le  Dauphin/'  whilst 
his  mother  looked  on  with  bitterness  in  her  heart. 
Had  not  her  boy  a  better  right  to  the  title  than  the 
son  of  Marie  de  Medicis — an  ugly  piece  of  flesh  and 
bone,  as  she  told  some  one  about  this  time,  with  no 
likeness  to  the  King  and  resembling  his  mother's  bad 
race  ? 

It  was  in  vain  that  she  was  advised  to  put  restraint 
upon  herself  and  to  do  her  duty  by  the  Queen,  since 
God  had  given  her  to  the  King  as  his  wife.  "It  was 
not  God  who  did  it,"  she  replied  with  a  sigh.  In 
which  she  may  have  been  right. 

The  most  serious  event  of  the  year  was  the  grave 
illness  of  Henri,  who  was  considered,  though  for  not 


Illness  of  the  King  55 

more  than  a  few  days,  to  be  in  actual  danger.  To  all 
concerned  these  days  brought  home  a  sense  of  the  pre- 
carious condition  of  a  kingdom  depending  for  security 
and  tranquillity  upon  a  single  life.  Henri  gone, 
what  would  ensue  ?  Who  would  grasp  the  sceptre 
he  would  let  fall  ?  Who  would  seize  the  reins  of 
government  and  rule  in  the  name  of  the  infant  King  ? 
Soissons,  turbulent  and  ambitious,  Conti,  feeble  and 
incapable,  even  the  boy  Conde  might  claim  the 
right  to  act  as  his  guardian  ;  and  the  thought  of  the 
child  in  the  hands  of  unscrupulous  men  ready  to 
make  capital  out  of  his  helplessness  might  well  cause 
the  father  to  tremble.  Sending  for  the  boy's  portrait, 
he  lamented,  as  he  looked  at  it,  that  he  should 
be  left  so  young  and  so  defenceless.  What  steps 
were  possible  to  minimise  the  risk,  should  his  illness 
prove  fatal,  he  lost  no  time  in  taking.  Incompetent 
as  the  Queen  was  in  many  respects,  she  could  be 
counted  upon  to  watch  over  her  son's  safety  and  to 
guard  his  inheritance  ;  and  summonses  were  dispatched 
to  all  provincial  governors  to  bid  them  repair  to 
Fontainebleau,  where  the  King  then  was,  that  they 
might  tender  their  oaths  of  obedience  to  Marie,  as 
guardian  to  her  son. 

In  two  days  the  present  danger  was  at  an  end  ;  but 
e  memory  of  it  served  to  quicken  Henri's  desire  to 
•ovide  against  the  contingency  he  had  then  contem- 
ited,  both  by  acquainting  his  wife  with  the  manage- 
lent  of  public  affairs  and  by  establishing  a  friendly 
relationship  between  her  and  Rosny,  whom  he  could 
ly  upon  as  a  trustworthy  adviser.  She  was  also 
given  a  place  on  the  Council-board,  and  was  en- 


56  The  Making  of  a  King 

couraged  to  show  a  personal  interest  in  what  went 
on  there. 

It  maybe  that  the  promptness  *of  the  King's  action  in 
assuring  to  her,  in  case  of  his  death,  the  position  belonging 
to  her  as  his  lawful  wife,  had  removed  for  the  moment 
the  Queen's  ever-recurrent  apprehensions  of  practical 
danger  to  herself  and  her  son  from  the  influence  exer- 
cised over  the  King  by  Madame  de  Verneuil,  and  was 
the  cause  of  a  renewal  of  friendly  relations  between 
the  two  women.  At  all  events  it  appeared,  from  the 
subsequent  deposition  of  the  Comte  d'Auvergne,  that 
Marie  had  taken  the  singular  step  of  inviting  his  sister 
to  Fontainebleau  at  the  time  that  Henri  was  lying  there 
ill ;  and  that,  upon  his  recovery,  a  species  of  reconcilia- 
tion had  taken  place,  the  Marquise  assuring  the  Queen 
that  she  would  have  reason  to  be  satisfied  with  her 
future  conduct  ;  Marie,  for  her  part,  promising  her, 
in  that  case,  her  affection.  If  a  truce  of  this  kind  was 
proclaimed  it  was  not  destined  to  continue  long  in 
force. 

In  the  meantime  recent  events  had  in  no  wise  put 
an  end  to  the  desire  entertained  in  some  quarters  for  a 
Spanish  alliance,  and  the  Dauphin's  attendants  were 
still  doing  what  lay  in  their  power  to  pave  the  way  for 
the  marriage  which  eventually  took  place.  In  October 
a  visit  was  paid  to  Saint-Germain  by  Don  Sanchez  de 
la  Serta,  on  his  way  to  Flanders,  accompanied  by  de 
Taxis,  Resident  Ambassador  ;  when  the  child  received 
his  guests  with  gracious  courtesy,  was  made  to  dance 
before  them,  and  drank  to  the  health  of  the  Infanta. 
Here  would  be  a  servant  for  her  one  of  these  days, 
observed  his  future  gouverneur,  M,  de  Souvre,  to  the 


Henri's  Complaints  of  the  Queen  57 

Ambassador,  as  the  two  watched  the  boy  at  his  dinner, 
and  the  Spaniard  responded  with  cordiality. 

"  As  the  world  goes,"  he  replied,  "  they  are  born  for 
each  other." 

The  Queen  had  not  been  long  in  learning  the  precise 
worth  of  Madame  de  Verneuil's  promises,  and  the 
tranquillity  in  the  royal  household  following  upon 
Henri's  illness  had  been  short-lived.  It  could  scarcely, 
indeed,  have  been  otherwise.  The  King's  passion  was 
a  perennial  source  of  discord  ;  the  Concini,  whose 
influence  continued  unabated,  were  not  likely  to 
advocate  a  policy  of  conciliation,  nor  to  further  the 
good  relations  the  King  had  striven  to  establish 
between  his  wife  and  Rosny  ;  nor  was  Marie  a 
woman  to  bow  so  far  to  necessity  as  to  attempt  by 
gentle  means  to  detach  her  husband  from  the  influence 
she  feared  and  resented.  Henri  longed  for  a  quiet 
life  ;  for  toleration,  if  not  approval.  From  Marie — 
and  she  is  hardly  to  be  blamed  for  it — he  received 
neither.  Bitterly  he  complained  to  Rosny  of  his 
domestic  discomfort. 

"  I  have  neither  companionship,  nor  pleasure,  nor 
comfort  from  my  wife,"  he  told  the  minister.  "Either 
she  cannot,  or  she  will  not,  be  complaisant  and  gentle 
in  conversation  ;  nor  will  she  conform  herself  in  any 
respect  to  my  humour  and  temperament.  When, 
coming  in,  I  approach  in  order  to  kiss  her,  to  caress 
her,  and  laugh  with  her,  she  looks  so  cold  and  dis- 
dainful that  I  am  constrained  to  depart  in  anger  and 
to  seek  my  recreation  elsewhere."  His  cousin  of 
ruise — afterwards  Princesse  de  Conti — had  been  his 
jfuge  when  she  was  at  the  palace.  Though  she  told 


58  The  Making  of  a  King 

him  the  truth — mes  verites — it  was  so  pleasantly  done 
that  he  took  no  offence.  And  he  wished  Rosny 
would  represent  to  the  Queen  that  she  was  not  going 
the  right  way  to  keep  him  at  home. 

Rosny  may  well  have  doubted  whether  his  interven- 
tion would  have  availed  to  mend  matters.  Yet  it  was 
a  moment  when  a  different  policy  from  that  pursued  by 
the  Queen  might  have  seemed  to  have  a  chance  of 
success.  With  justification  enough  and  to  spare  for 
remaining  inaccessible  to  her  husband's  fitful  advances, 
her  wisdom  would  have  been  to  ignore  her  wrongs 
and  to  attempt  to  profit  by  the  opportunities  afforded 
her  by  Madame  de  Verneuil's  conduct  to  win  him 
back.  The  Marquise,  besides  being  suspected  of 
fresh  intrigues  with  Spain,  as  well  as  of  more  personal 
infidelities,  was  not  at  the  pains  to  disguise  her 
lack  of  affection  for  the  King,  and  met  his  reproaches 
with  angry  insolence.  Varying  her  methods,  she  would 
at  times  irritate  him  by  assuming  the  airs  of  a  devote^ 
in  no  way  imposing  upon  a  man  never  lacking  in 
sagacity  and  shrewdness  ;  and  when  taxed  by  Henri  with 
treasonable  practices,  she  answered  by  a  flat  denial  of 
the  charges  brought  against  her,  adding  that,  as  he 
grew  old  he  had  become  so  distrustful  and  suspicious 
that  it  was  impossible  to  live  with  him — that  their 
connection  brought  her  no  advantage  and  much  an- 
noyance, including  the  hatred  of  his  wife,  to  whom 
she  alluded  in  terms  so  outrageous  that  he  came  near, 
as  he  told  Rosny,  to  striking  her  on  the  cheek. 
When,  further,  he  attempted  to  induce  her  to  sur- 
render the  promise  of  marriage  in  her  possession, 
she  replied  with  a  defiance.  He  might  seek  it  else- 


__-!__ 


The  Son  of  the  Marquise  59 


where  ;  from  her  he  would  never  obtain  what  he 
wanted.  Upon  which  they  had  parted,  the  King 
swearing  that  she  should  be  made  to  find  it. 

The  document  in  question  was  a  constant  cause 
of  disquiet  to  the  Queen.  Henri,  it  is  true,  character- 
ised the  pledge  it  contained,  hampered  as  it  was  with 
unfulfilled  conditions,  as  mere  "  niaiserie."  But  it  con- 
stituted, nevertheless,  in  some  sort  a  serious  menace  to 
the  rights  of  the  Queen  and  her  son.  The  age  was  one 
when  promises  of  marriage,  however  irregular,  had  an 
indeterminate  binding  force, and  were  dangerous  weapons 
in  hostile  hands.  That  Rosny  and  Villeroy,  the  King's 
two  chief  officers  of  State,  should  have  thought  it 
necessary  about  this  time  to  assure  the  Queen  that, 
whatever  befell,  she  and  the  Dauphin  would  have 
their  support,  is  proof  that  her  fears  were  not  wholly 
chimerical. 

There  were  other  disquieting  facts.  Henri  was 
known  to  be  attached  to  Madame  de  Verneuil's  son, 
appearing  to  make  as  much  account  of  him  as  of  the 
Dauphin.  He  had  called  his  wife's  attention  to  a 
resemblance  between  the  two  boys,  and  had  resented 
the  Queen's  cold  reply  that  a  likeness  was  impossible, 
since  her  son  resembled  herself  and  her  uncle  the 
Grand-duke.  Henri  had  also  been  heard,  caressing 
the  Marquise's  child,  to  compare  him  favourably  with 
the  Queen's. 

"  See  how  amiable  this  son  of  mine  is,  and  how 
like  me,"  he  had  observed.  a  He  is  not  a  stubborn 
child  like  the  Dauphin  !  " 

It  was  indeed  a  curious  fact,  to  which  attention  has 
been  drawn  by  M.  Batifol,  that,  whilst  the  Vendome 


60  The  Making  of  a  King 

brothers  were  far  from  inheriting  the  qualities  of  their 
gentle-natured  mother,  the  son  and  daughter  of 
Madame  de  Verneuil,  cold,  ill-tempered  and  masterful 
as  she  was,  were  gentle  and  affectionate  children, 
commending  themselves  to  all.  The  comparison  in- 
stituted by  the  King,  no  doubt  repeated  to  Marie, 
was  not  calculated  to  allay  Apprehensions  accentuated 
by  his  behaviour  in  connection  with  the  death  of  his 
sister,  which  occurred  early  in  1604. 

Henri  had  been  deeply  affected  by  the  event,  dis- 
missing the  nobles  who  had  come,  after  the  fashion 
of  the  day,  to  offer  him  consolation,  and  facing  his 
sorrow  alone.  To  the  papal  nuncio,  who  expressed 
the  Pope's  regrets  for  the  loss  of  the  Duchess's  soul, 
he  administered  a  stern  rebuke.  To  think  worthily 
of  God,  he  told  the  ecclesiastic,  it  must  be  believed 
that  grace  was  capable  of  fitting  any  sinner,  even  as 
he  drew  his  last  breath,  to  enter  heaven.  He  felt 
no  doubt  of  his  sister's  salvation.  He  would  not 
insist  upon  the  nuncio  wearing  mourning  for  her — a 
difficulty  had  been  made — but  without  it  he  must  not 
present  himself  at  Court. 

So  far  Henri's  conduct  commands  general  sympathy. 
It  is  a  different  matter  with  regard  to  other  compli- 
cations produced  by  the  death  of  Catherine  de  Bar. 
With  more  than  questionable  taste  her  brother  divided 
her  French  property  between  the  Queen  and  Madame 
de  Verneuil,  assigning  to  each  one  of  the  houses  he 
had  presented  to  the  Duchess.  Worse  followed,  or 
would  have  followed  had  the  King  not  possessed  in 
Rosny  a  servant  bold  enough  to  withstand  his 
wishes ;  for  Henri  was  bent  on  bestowing  upon 


King  and  Dauphin  61 

the  son  of  the  Marquise  no  less  a  gift  than  the 
county  of  Foix,  with  the  duchy  of  Armagnac,  ren- 
dered available  by  his  sister's  death.  Rosny  was  firm 
in  his  resistance  to  the  proposal.  The  thing,  he 
told  the  King  plainly,  could  not  be  done ;  neither 
Council  nor  Parlement  would  consent.  The  appanages 
in  question  belonged  by  right  to  the  Dauphin,  or, 
should  he  die,  to  his  sister.  Henri,  in  spite  of 
anger  and  disappointment,  had  no  alternative  but  to 
give  way.  Defeated  on  one  point,  however,  he  started 
a  fresh  scheme,  no  less  detrimental  to  the  claims  of 
his  lawful  son.  The  Due  de  Montpensier  was  in 
a  precarious  state  of  health  ;  and  at  his  death  the 
important  government  of  Normandy,  again  usually 
held  by  the  heir  to  the  throne,  would  become  vacant. 
Henri  now  proposed  to  confer  it  upon  the  son  of  the 
Marquise,  unfolding  this  fresh  scheme  to  the  Queen 
herself,  who  met  it  with  a  just  opposition.  To  have 
carried  it  into  effect  would  have  been  to  lend  colour 
and  substance  to  every  claim  put  forward  by  Madame 
de  Verneuil  on  (behalf  of  her  son,  and  Henri  can- 
not have  been  ignorant  that  such  would  be  the 
result. 

The  state  of  the  King's  mind  indicated  by  his  action 
in  these  matters  gave  additional  importance  to  the  fact 
that,  in  these  early  years,  the  will  of  the  Dauphin  and 
that  of  his  father  were  apt  to  come  into  sharp  and 
direct  collision,  the  comparison  he  had  made  between 
his  two  little  sons,  to  the  disadvantage  of  his  heir, 
being  thereby  explained.  The  effect  of  training  and 
discipline  is  quickly  apparent,  and  already  the  poor 
child  at  Saint-Germain  was  showing  it. 


62  The  Making  of  a  King 

Confided  to  the  care  of  a  coarse-minded  and  violent 
woman,  most  unfit  for  her  post,  severity  alternated 
with  over-indulgence.  Corporal  punishment,  intimi- 
dation, and  menaces,  were  the  means  taken  to  enforce 
obedience.  A  mason  would  be  introduced,  who  pre- 
pared to  carry  the  child  away  in  his  hod  ;  a  locksmith 
displayed  the  instruments  of  his  craft,  telling  him  that 
they  were  used  to  drive  nails  into  those  who  were 
stubborn.  Worse  still,  a  bunch  of  birch  rods  were 
let  down  through  the  chimney,  and  he  was  given  to 
understand  that  an  angel  had  brought  them  from 
heaven.  At  the  same  time  he  was  never  permitted 
to  forget  that  he  was  a  person  of  importance,  was 
encouraged  to  domineer  over  his  brothers,  sisters, 
and  attendants ;  was  flattered  by  all,  and  was  the 
centre  of  attention.  It  was  scarcely  possible  that 
he  should  not  be  self-willed,  and  bent  upon  having 
his  own  way ;  if  he  was  afraid  of  the  whip,  ad- 
ministered almost  from  the  cradle,  it  could  not  be 
expected  to  exercise  a  moral  influence,  and  served 
rather  to  rouse  and  strengthen  his  resistance  than 
to  reduce  him  to  penitence.  Heroard,  combining 
with  a  dog-like  devotion  to  his  little  master  and  an 
inordinate  estimate  of  his  gifts  and  qualities  a  clear 
perception  of  his  faults  and  failings,  displays  from 
time  to  time  regret  for  the  methods  in  use ;  but 
except  in  the  matter  of  health  his  opinions  were  of 
small  account,  and  Madame  de  Montglat  reigned 
supreme. 

The  child  and  his  usual  surroundings  being  what 
they  were,  it  was  natural  that  when  father  and  son 
were  brought  into  close  contact  friction  should  ensue. 


f  de  PalUs  g&rJa  lengutnutU  Trtrf,  £>  tamii*  qu'ellt  vjut  le  Grec  n  sn  eut  la  %n£ 
Ctpendatqut  ia. France  aura  a  (her  Daulp'n-n    La  France  aux  eftragm  nt  ferula  J<  ^\-^-" 


row  an  engraving  by  P.  Firens,  after  a  drawing  by  G.  le  Pileur. 

LOUIS    XIII.    AS    DAUPHIN,    AT    THE    AGE    OF   THREE    YEARS. 
,62] 


JW1 


King  and  Dauphin  in  Collision  63 


: 

wl 

I 


Both  were  strong-willed,  both  indisposed  to  yield. 
Henri's  ideas  of  discipline  were  those  of  a  soldier. 
Obedience  must  be  prompt  at  the  moment  he  was 
disposed  to  exact  it ;  though,  that  moment  past,  his 
orders  could  be  safely  disregarded.  "  It  will  be  ob- 
served," wrote  Malherbe  of  some  fresh  court  regu- 
lation, "  in  the  same  way  as  the  command  he  issued 
lately  that  all  the  world,  even  in  his  absence,  should 
be  bareheaded  in  his  chamber.  An  hour  later  every- 
body was  covered  there,  including  the  servants  them- 
selves." In  the  same  way,  there  were  times  when 
the  Dauphin's  ill-temper  might  be  tolerated  by  ^his 
father,  or  even  afford  him  amusement ;  whilst  at  others 
he  would  punish  the  child's  defiance  of  authority  with 
undue  severity. 

"  The  King  comes  to  see  him,"  wrote  Heroard  in 
January  1604,  when  the  boy  was  not  yet  two  and 
a  half,  "and  plays  with  him  gaily.  The  Dauphin  is 
put  into  such  a  bad  temper  that  he  nearly  bursts  himself 
with  screaming,  and  all  was  in  so  great  confusion  that 
I  had  not  the  courage  to  observe  what  he  was  doing, 
except  that,  crying  very  much,  he  wanted  to  beat  all 
the  world.  Long  afterwards,  he  is  whipped."  Again, 
in  March,  "  Taken  to  the  King's  chamber,  he  threatens 
him  with  the  whip.  He  grows  stubborn,  wishes  to  go 
to  his  own  room.  Brought  to  that  of  the  Queen,  he 
ntinues  the  same.  The  King  orders  him  to  be 
whipped.  He  is  whipped  by  Madame  de  Montglat. 
nly  quieted  by  preserve  given  him  by  the  Queen, 
ving  tried  to  beat  and  scratch  the  Queen.  Taken 
the  new  buildings,  he  is  roughly  handled  by  the 
King." 


64  The  Making  of  a  King 

To  the  mother,  looking  on  and  aware  that  the  child, 
as  well  as  herself,  had  a  rival  in  his  father's  affections, 
scenes  of  this  kind,  unimportant  in  themselves,  may 
have  been  invested  with  significance,  and  she  may  have 
felt  that  her  boy's  baby  passions  were  working  against 
him. 


CHAPTER  VI 
1604 

Recall  of  the  Jesuits — The  Queen  and  Madame  de  Verneuil — The 
Marquise's  children  placed  at  Saint-Germain — Discovery  of  the 
plot  of  d'Entragues — The  King's  clemency. 

IN  the  winter  of  1603-4  Henri-Quatre  committed 
what  has  been  widely  regarded  as  a  grave  blunder. 
This  was  the  readmission  of  the  Jesuits  to  France. 

Their  expulsion  from  the  kingdom  had  been  the 
consequence  of  the  attempt  made,  in  1594,  upon  the 
King's  life,  ascribed,  rightly  or  wrongly,  to  their 
influence.  It  is  clear  from  the  circular  letter  written 
by  Henri  after  his  escape  that  he,  no  less  than  others, 
held  the  Order  responsible  for  the  danger  he  had  run. 
No  information,  he  observed,  had  been  extracted  from 
the  culprit,  save  the  fact  that  he  had  passed  three  years 
at  the  Jesuit  college,  where  it  was  to  be  presumed  that 
he  had  received  this  good  instruction.  The  King,  the 
Parlement,  the  Sorbonne,  and  the  University  of  Paris 
were  agreed  in  their  determination  to  make  use  of  the 
opportunity  to  expel  the  Society  from  France,  and 
for  close  upon  ten  years  Henri  had  been  firm  in 
resisting  the  endeavours  made  to  induce  him  to  re- 
consider his  decision  and  to  consent  to  their  return. 
If  he  had  two  lives,  he  once  said  lightly,  he  would 


66  The  Making  of  a  King 

willingly  sacrifice  one  of  them  to  satisfy  his  Holiness. 
Having  but  one,  he  must  preserve  it  for  the  Pope's 
service  and  for  the  welfare  of  his  people. 

In  the  years  that  had  elapsed  since  Jean  ChUtel's 
blow  had  been  struck  the  King's  attitude  had  under- 
gone a  notable  change,  and,  in  the  teeth  of  the 
opposition  offered  to  the  measure,  he  had  now  deter- 
mined upon  readmitting  the  Society.  His  motives 
in  doing  so  were  doubtless  mixed.  Those  to  whom, 
judging  him  by  the  change  of  creed  by  which  he 
won  a  throne,  he  pre-eminently  represents  the  principle 
of  indifference  or  opportunism  in  religious  matters, 
will  naturally  regard  his  action  as  a  concession  to 
political  expediency.  Yet  there  may  have  been  another 
explanation.  By  the  testimony  of  contemporaries, 
confirmed  by  the  evidence  afforded  by  his  life  and 
language,  the  desire  he  testified  to  reconcile  conflicting 
parties  was  combined  not  only  with  a  simple  faith  in 
God,  but  with  unquestioning  and  unwavering  loyalty 
to  the  Church  of  his  adoption.  His  correspondence, 
says  the  editor  of  his  "  Lettres  Intimes,"  proves  that 
he  was  very  religious  ;  in  familiar  intercourse  he  dis- 
played sentiments  that  were  never  paraded.  His  boy 
was  carefully  and  strictly  trained  in  the  observance 
of  the  rites  of  the  Church  and  in  the  knowledge  of  its 
tenets,  was  taken  to  confession  when  still  walking  in 
leading-strings,  the  King  himself  listening  to  his  repeti- 
tion of  the  Paternoster.  Henri  was  moreover  curiously 
anxious  to  make  converts.  His  endeavours  to  induce 
his  sister  to  follow  his  example  have  been  seen.  Upon 
Sully,  too,  he  brought  to  bear  all  the  pressure  possible 
alike  as  master  and  friend  ;  whilst  a  few  days  before 


Re-admission  of  the  Jesuits  67 

his  death    he  was    apparently  engaged  in  controversy 
with  M.  de  la  Force,  also  a  Huguenot. 

"  My  friend,"  he  is  quoted  as  saying,  "  the  Roman 
religion  is  not  so  full  of  idolatry  as  I  formerly  believed." 

With  loyal  adherence  to  the  Church  he  had  joined 
a  strong  spirit  of  religious  toleration  was  combined. 
The  Edict  of  Nantes  proved  it  on  the  one  side  ; 
and  if  policy  and  diplomacy  had  their  share  in  deter- 
mining his  present  line  of  conduct,  there  is  no  reason 
to  disbelieve  his  own  assertion  that  he  was  actuated  by 
worthier  motives.  A  Jesuit,  named  Cotton,  had  also 
acquired  considerable  influence  over  him  ;  giving  rise 
to  the  mot  that,  now  that  the  King  had  his  ears  full 
of  cotton,  he  listened  to  no  one. 

From  whatever  cause,  he  was  resolute  in  carrying 
out  his  purpose  ;  his  reply  to  the  protests  of  the 
Parlement  being  made  in  a  tone  proving  that  remon- 
strance would  be  useless.  It  contained  an  emphatic  and 
curious  vindication — coming  from  the  ex-Huguenot — 
of  the  Order  so  generally  unpopular.  How  could  men, 
he  demanded,  be  charged  with  ambition  who  were 
pledged  to  refuse  dignities  or  bishoprics  ?  The  opposi- 
tion offered  to  them  by  ecclesiastics  was  due  to  the 
quarrel  existing  from  all  time  between  ignorance  and 
knowledge.  Two  classes  of  men,  in  particular,  were 
adverse  to  the  proposed  measure — Churchmen  of  evil 
life  and  those  belonging  to  the  Protestant  religion  :  a 
fact,  added  the  King,  increasing  the  estimation  in  which 
he  held  the  Order.  If  the  Sorbonne  had  condemned 
them  it  was  without  knowing  them.  The  University 
had  occasion  to  regret  their  absence,  since  it  had 
become  a  desert  in  consequence  of  it ;  and  scholars,  in 


68  The  Making  of  a  King 

spite  of  all  decrees  to  the  contrary,  had  sought  them, 
both  in  France  and  abroad.  If  one  Jesuit  had  been 
involved  in  the  attempt  upon  his*  life,  was  that  a  reason 
that  all  should  suffer  ?  Should  every  one  of  the 
apostles  have  been  driven  away  because  of  a  single 
Judas  ?  It  was  said  that  they  were  employed  by 
Spain.  France  also  shouLJ  make  use  of  them,  and 
God  had  reserved  for  him  the  glory  of  effecting  their 
re-establishment. 

To  Rosny,  strongly  adverse  to  the  proposed  measure, 
Henri  adopted  another  line  of  argument.  Two  courses, 
he  told  his  friend,  lay  before  him  :  either  he  should 
admit  the  Order  on  the  strength  of  their  protestations 
of  loyalty,  or  he  must  exclude  them  with  greater  severity 
than  heretofore,  using  all  possible  rigour  so  as  to 
keep  them  at  a  distance,  "  in  which  case  there  is  no 
doubt  that  they  will  be  rendered  desperate,  and  will 
make  attempts  upon  my  life,  rendering  it  so  wretched 
and  languishing,  always  in  dread  of  poison  or  assassin- 
ation .  .  .  that  I  should  be  better  dead." 

Rosny  yielded.  His  judgment  might  be  against 
the  re-establishment  of  the  Order  as  a  political  step, 
but  he  loved  his  master.  Rather  than  that  the  King 
should  be  reduced  to  the  condition  he  described,  he 
said,  let  the  Jesuits  or  any  other  sect  be  established 
in  the  realm  !  The  Council  submitted  to  the  King's 
will,  and  the  thing  was  done. 

That  he  acted  not  without  a  knowledge  of  perils 
to  which  the  measure  might  give  rise  is  indicated  by 
the  instructions  he  is  said  to  have  given  the  Queen 
as  to  her  conduct  with  regard  to  the  Society  in  case 
of  his  death.  She  was  to  treat  them  well,  but  was 


Domestic  Friction  69 

to  be  on  her  guard  against  their  undue  increase,  and 
was  in  especial  to  prevent  their  acquiring  a  foothold 
on  the  frontiers. 

If  the  measure  had  been  taken  by  Henri  partly  in 
the  hope  of  ensuring  peace  and  quiet  it  was  not 
destined  to  fulfil  that  object.  He  was  to  enjoy  little 
respite  from  danger  and  anxiety,  so  far  as  public  affairs 
were  concerned. 

At  home  a  semi-breach  with  the  Marquise  de  Verneuil 
might  again  have  afforded  Marie  de  Medicis  a  chance, 
had  she  known  how  to  avail  herself  of  it,  of  strengthen- 
ing her  own  influence.  Being,  to  quote  M.  Dussieux, 
"  une  des  femmes  les  plus  completement  ennuyeuses  et 
maladroites  qui  se  puissent  imaginer,"  she  let  the 
opportunity  slip  ;  and  by  May  1604  the  King,  angry 
and  distrustful  of  the  Marquise,  but  incapable  of  freeing 
himself  from  her  fetters,  was  bent  upon  summoning 
her  to  Fontainebleau  and  supplying  her  with  every 
facility  for  clearing  herself  from  the  fresh  doubts 
he  entertained  of  her  fidelity  and  of  her  complicity  in 
the  designs  of  his  enemies.  Furthermore,  he  required 
of  the  Queen  that  the  Marquise  and  her  children 
should  be  graciously  received  at  the  palace,  and  that 
the  Dauphin  and  his  sister  should  be  brought  thither 
from  Saint- Germain  to  be  present  on  the  occasion. 

It  could  not  be  expected  that  Marie  should  submit 
without  a  struggle.  Apart  from  personal  feeling,  she 

d  good  reason  to  refuse  to  countenance  the  King's 
infatuation.  Ever  on  the  watch  to  seize  an  ad- 
vantage, her  rival  was  doing  her  best,  in  view 
of  Henri's  death,  and  perhaps  that  of  the  Dauphin, 
form  a  party  in  the  State  which  would  support 


70  The  Making  of  a  King 

her,  should  an  opportunity  occur.  Sillery,  about  to 
become  Chancellor,  was  gained  over  and  could  not 
be  counted  upon  to  oppose  his  master  in  any  project, 
however  prejudicial  to  his  wife  and  heir  ;  and  at  the 
present  moment  Madame  de  Verneuil  was  engaged 
in  the  endeavour  to  induce  the  widowed  Duchesse  de 
Longueville — who  betrayed  iier  to  the  Queen — to  marry 
the  young  Duke  to  her  little  daughter.  The  boy  was 
the  representative  of  one  of  the  first  four  houses  of 
France,  and  a  match  between  him  and  Catherine  de  Ven- 
dome  had  been  in  question.  The  living,  however,  the 
Marquise  boasted,  were  of  more  account  than  the  dead, 
and  her  daughter  might  well  be  preferred  to  Gabrielle's. 
Five  great  personages,  she  told  the  Duchess,  had 
pledged  themselves  to  forward  her  interests.  At  present 
their  names  were  suppressed,  but  she  promised  to  supply 
them  were  the  marriage  arranged.  Though  when  the 
King  broached  the  subject  to  Marie  herself  she  merely 
replied  that  the  donzella  might  seem  over-young, 
she  was  none  the  less  much  disturbed,  according  to 
the  Florentine  envoy,  both  by  the  special  matter  at 
issue  and  by  the  small  amount  of  affection  displayed 
by  the  King  for  herself  and  her  son. 

She  determined  that,  at  all  events,  her  children 
should  not  be  brought  to  Fontainebleau  to  be  placed 
on  an  equality  with  those  of  the  Marquise,  to  suffer 
comparisons  possibly  to  their  disadvantage,  and  to 
run  the  risk  of  being  treated  with  even  less  distinction 
by  their  father.  Reports  were  current  of  the  Marquise's 
boasts,  and  of  how,  when  the  Dauphin  was  discussed 
and  praised  in  her  presence,  she  declared  her  son 
was  the  handsomer  of  the  two,  and  would  have  the 


LC 

;; 


Domestic  Friction  71 

tronger  arms.  The  Queen  resolved  that  the 
hildren  should  not  meet,  sending  strict  instructions 
that  her  boy  should  be  detained  at  Saint-Germain 
on  the  pretext  of  a  cold. 

With  regard  to  the  Marquise's  visit  a  sharp  contest 
ensued.  Henri  was  bent  upon  carrying  his  point 
and  having  her  received  at  Fontainebleau  ;  the  Queen 
was  equally  determined.  Messages  between  husband 
and  wife  were  exchanged  through  Sillery,  who  told 
Marie,  on  the  King's  behalf,  that  she  was  preparing 
the  Dauphin's  ruin  by  her  conduct,  since  Madame 
de  Verneuil  would  be  in  a  position  to  plead  the 
Queen's  hatred  of  her  and  her  children,  and  Henri 
would  be  compelled  to  guarantee  her  safety  by  according 
her  the  governments  and  strongholds  she  demanded. 

To  this  menace  Marie  retorted  by  saying  that,  in 
the  event  of  his  carrying  it  out,  it  would  be  the  King, 
rather  than  herself,  who  would  work  ruin  to  the 
Dauphin  and  the  realm.  Neither  was  inclined  to 
yield,  and  in  the  end  Henri  mounted  his  horse 
and  rode  forth  to  meet  the  Marquise,  on  her  way  to 
the  palace,  leaving  Rosny  to  intervene  in  the  dispute 
and  to  endeavour  to  induce  his  wife  to  consent,  if  only 
for  a  day,  to  the  proposed  visit. 

Such  was  the  condition  of  things  when  Rosny, 
Sillery,  and  Villeroy,  Secretary  of  State,  met  in  con- 
sultation. The  Privy  Council,  called  together  at 
Fontainebleau,  were  not  unnaturally  indignant  that 
the  transaction  of  public  affairs  should  be  thus  in- 
terrupted. It  was  important  to  arrange  an  armistice, 

not  a  lasting  peace,  between  the  domestic  belligerents, 
ressure  was  brought  to  bear  upon  the  Queen  to 


72  The  Making  of  a  King 

persuade  her  to  give  way  and  to  abandon  a  line  of 
conduct  undeniably  capable  of  being  used  by  the 
Marquise  to  her  detriment  and  that  of  her  son. 

Marie,  thus  pressed,  submitted.  Though  under  pro- 
test, she  consented  to  receive  her  rival,  for  a  single 
day,  at  the  palace.  The  sacrifice  was,  after  all,  not 
demanded  of  her.  Having  met  the  Marquise  at  one 
of  the  stages  of  her  journe*y,  and  too  impatient  to 
await  the  arrival  of  the  courier  who  was  to  convey  the 
Queen's  decision,  the  King  accompanied  the  travelling 
party  to  Paris,  a  visit  to  Saint-Germain  serving  as  a 
transparent  excuse  for  the  journey. 

On  his  return  to  Fontainebleau  the  Queen  was  in 
a  more  placable  mood.  Having  behaved  with  dignity 
and  self-restraint  in  an  intolerable  position,  she  had 
enlisted  public  opinion  on  her  side,  and  the  con- 
sciousness of  support  may  have  softened  her.  Rosny, 
showing  himself  in  especial  her  friend,  told  his  master, 
in  his  usual  plain  language,  that  had  he  not  to  deal 
with  any  one  as  good  and  prudent  as  the  Queen,  he 
would  find  that  his  neglect  of  her,  for  the  sake  of  a 
woman  who  had  no  other  object  save  that  of  troubling 
the  realm  and  injuring  the  Dauphin,  was  calculated  to 
operate  to  his  own  disadvantage.  The  Queen's  be- 
haviour, he  added,  had  won  her  praise  and  consideration 
from  all. 

Thus  admonished,  Henri  admitted  that  the  Marquise 
indulged  mischievous  plans  and  ideas,  and  assured  the 
minister  that  he  had  no  thought  of  entrusting  her  with 
governments  or  strongholds.  Peace  was  restored,  and 
for  a  brief  space  tranquillity  reigned  at  the  palace. 
The  King  had  finally  determined  upon  the  step — 


Fresh  Treason  73 

always  urged  by  Marie — of  removing  the  Verneuil 
children  from  their  mother's  hands  and  placing  them 
at  Saint-Germain,  where  the  boy  would  no  longer  be 
available  as  an  instrument  for  those  hatching  treason- 
able schemes.  The  events  of  the  summer  were  to  prove 
that  the  measure  was  not  unnecessary. 

During  the  month  of  June  facts  were  brought  to 
light  rendering  certain  what  had  been  matter  of 
suspicion — namely,  the  plot  called  by  the  name  of 
its  chief  promoter,  the  Sieur  d'Entragues,  father  to  the 
Marquise.  The  main  feature  of  this  fresh  conspiracy 
was  an  arrangement  with  de  Taxis,  late  Spanish 
Ambassador  at  Paris,  to  the  effect  that  the  unfortunate 
promise  of  marriage,  now  in  the  hands  of  d'Entragues, 
should  be  consigned  to  King  Philip,  who  was  to  act 
as  protector  of  the  Marquise's  son  and  to  recognise 
in  him  the  heir  to  the  French  throne.  ^Child  and 
mother  were  to  take  refuge  in  the  Spanish  Netherlands  ; 
whilst  the  lives  of  the  King  and  the  Dauphin  were  to 
be  attempted  by  the  once-pardoned  traitor,  Auvergne. 

The  plot  was  discovered  in  time,  and  was  promptly 
exposed.     Conducted  through  an  English  agent  named 
Morgan,   it   came   to    the   ears   of  James    I.,  was    re- 
vealed by  him  to  Henri  without  delay,  and  was  thus 
Kistrated. 
As  to  the  guilt  of  d'Entragues  and  Auvergne  there 
uld  be  no  question.     Both,  indeed,  in  turn  avowed 
Madame  de  Verneuil    was    brazen    in   her  denial 
complicity,  but  no  one  believed  her.     Yet  Henri, 
helpless  in  the  hands  of  a  woman  he  knew  in  his  heart 
to  be  false  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  again  strove  to 
,ve  her  and  her  kin  from  the  consequences  of  their 


74  The  Making  of  a  King 

crimes.  The  Council  would  have  shown  a  wholesome 
seventy  and  have  put  the  culprits  to  death  ;  but  the 
King  barred  the  way.  Should  'her  father  and  brother 
lose  their  lives — even  were  the  Marquise  herself  per- 
mitted to  escape — what  connection  would  be  possible 
in  the  future  between  her  and  the  man  who  had  acted 
as  their  executioner  ?  If  they  were  to  live,  however, 
one  step  was  proved  to  be  absolutely  necessary,  and 
this  the  King  took.  Formally,  and  before  witnesses, 
d'Entragues  was  forced  to  surrender  the  document 
which  had  been  the  cause  of  so  much  trouble.  The 
promise  of  the  King  to  marry  her  rival  was  at  last 
placed  in  the  Queen's  hands,  and  a  principal  weapon 
was  wrested  from  her  rival.  By  the  formal  legitimation 
of  the  Verneuil  children  Henri  also  accentuated  the 
irregularity  of  their  birth. 

Once  again  his  enemies  had  failed  in  their  attempts 
to  destroy  him.  Nevertheless  the  discovery  of  their 
intrigues  had  been  a  shock  ;  and  in  a  mood  of  de- 
jection the  King  spoke  to  the  Due  de  Montpensier  of 
the  designs  upon  his  life  and  the  chances  that  his 
wife  and  son  would  be  left  unprotected  ;  embracing 
the  Duke  with  tears  in  his  eyes  when  he  gave  him 
the  assurance  that,  in  case  of  disaster,  his  life  and 
fortune  would  be  placed  at  the  feet  of  the  Dauphin  and 
his  mother. 

Meantime  little  Verneuil,  the  unconscious  figure- 
head of  the  conspiracy,  was  relegated  to  a  place  of  safety. 
By  the  middle  of  June  he  and  his  sister  were  installed 
at  Saint-Germain,  where  the  King  and  Queen  were 
staying  at  the  time. 

The    introduction    of    his    new    playfellows   to    the 


Daup 


The  de  Verncuils  at  the  Chateau          75 


auphin  took  place  one  evening  when  supper  was  in 
progress. 

"  Monsieur/'  some  one  told  him,  "  here  is  another 
fefe  [brother]  come  to  see  you." 

"  Yet  another /#??  "  he  replied.     «  Where  is  he  ?  " 

He  looked  hard  at  the  new-comers  as  they  were 
brought  in.  Then,  lifted  down  from  his  chair,  he 
advanced  coldly  to  bestow  a  greeting  upon  the  little 
boy,  who,  perhaps  tired  by  his  journey,  and  ill  at  ease  in 
his  new  surroundings,  remained  leaning  against  the  arm 
of  a  chair,  his  eyes  on  the  ground,  refusing  to  respond 
to  his  host's  advances.  And  thus  the  acquaintance  was 
inaugurated. 

The  Queen  had  carried  her  point.  The  small  pre- 
tender was  in  safe  keeping — his  mother  deprived,  to 
quote  the  Tuscan  resident,  of  "  la  mercanzia  della  sua 
bottega."  Yet  the  arrangement  was  not  unattended 
by  disadvantages,  and  the  very  fact  that  the  Marquise's 
children  and  their  servants  were  under  the  same  roof 
as  her  own  son  and  daughter  occasioned  the  Queen 
no  little  disquiet.  It  was  known  that,  to  ensure  her 
children's  welfare,  Madame  de  Verneuil  had  done  her 
best  to  propitiate  those  in  charge  of  the  Dauphin  ;  and 
Marie  was  haunted  by  alarm  lest  opportunities  should 
offer  to  work  ill  to  the  boy.  The  apprehension,  in 
days  when  poison  was  freely  used,  was  not  altogether 
chimerical,  and  a  letter  addressed  to  her  by  a  devote, 
amed  the  Madre  Passitea,  had  quickened  her  fears. 
Twice,  according  to  this  lady,  had  the  Dauphin, 
through  the  mercy  of  God,  escaped  this  special  peril. 
The  same  danger  now  threatened  him,  and  none  could 

Ki  what  result. 


7  6  The  Making  of  a  King 

Notwithstanding  the  terrors  by  which  the  Queen 
was  tormented,  she  was  not  inclined  to  fail  in  kind- 
ness towards  the  new  inmates  of  the  chateau.  On 
the  morning  after  their  arrival  she  had  the  Dauphin 
and  the  little  Verneuil  brought  to  her  together,  and 
made  them  both  "  bonne  chere."  For  the  future  the 
two  boys,  almost  exactly  of  an  age,  were  constant 
playmates  ;  though  the  advantage  to  the  Dauphin  of 
the  companionship  was  neutralised  in  great  measure 
by  the  recognition  on  his  own  part  and  that  of  all 
around  him  of  the  difference  in  their  position.  To 
the  Marquise's  son  the  Dauphin  was  "mon  maitre," 
whilst  the  Dauphin  would  allude  to  his  half-brother 
as  "petit  Vaneuil." 

The  proceedings  against  the  conspirators  were 
strangely  delayed.  Not  until  the  end  of  the  year  were 
d'Entragues  and  Auvergne  in  confinement ;  and  from 
the  first  it  was  feared  by  those  in  a  position  to  judge 
that  the  Marquise  would  be  allowed  to  escape  the 
chastisement  of  her  crime.  The  Chancellor,  Sillery, 
whose  eyes  had  been  opened  to  her  true  character, 
sent  for  the  Florentine  envoy  and  expressed  his  appre- 
hensions that  no  just  severity  would  be  used  towards 
the  offenders ;  requesting  Giovannini  to  counsel  the 
Queen  as  to  her  course  of  conduct  and  to  acquaint  her 
with  the  danger  involved  to  herself  and  her  son. 

Sillery  was  probably  anxious  to  clear  himself 
indirectly  in  Marie's  eyes  from  any  suspicion  of 
complicity  ;  for  there  could  be  little  doubt  that  she 
was  fully  aware  of  the  importance  of  the  issues  at 
stake  ;  she  had  indeed  done  her  best  to  represent  the 
matter  in  its  true  light  to  the  King,  though  her  inter- 


venti< 


The  Marquise  at  Saint'Germain  77 


ention  had  not  been  attended  with  success.  Henri  had 
made  excuses,  and  had  given  evasive  answers  ;  telling 
her  plainly,  in  the  end,  that  she  was  too  vindictive.  He 
was,  in  fact,  determined  to  shut  his  eyes  to  the  full 
extent  of  the  Marquise's  guilt ;  and,  at  all  times  in- 
clined to  pardon,  it  could  scarcely  be  anticipated  that 
he  would  prove  implacable  when  the  woman  he  loved 
was  in  question.  There  was  no  appeal  against  his 
decision  ;  in  July  Madame  de  Verneuil  was  not  only 
at  large  but  had  been  allowed  to  visit  her  children  at 
Saint-Germain,  being  admitted  to  the  presence  of  the 
Dauphin,  against  whom  the  plot  had  been  laid. 

On  this  occasion  she  apparently  did  her  best  to 
propitiate  the  favour  of  the  child,  who  showed  no 
liking  for  his  guest.  Refusing,  until  compelled  to 
perform  the  act  of  courtesy  by  his  gouvernante,  to  give 
her  his  hand  in  farewell,  he  was  only  induced  with 
manifest  reluctance  to  assure  her  that  he  would  love 
hisfefe,  her  son. 

"  And  he  will  be  your  servant,"  was  the  reply  of  the 
Marquise,  made,  as  may  well  be  believed,  with  no  less 
reluctance.  It  was  not  as  the  servant  of  Marie  de 
Medicis'  son  that  she  regarded  her  own. 


CHAPTER  VII 

> 

1604 

The  Dauphin  at  Fontainebleau — Life  at  the  palace — The  King's 
affection  for  his  son — Visit  of  the  Comte  de  Sora — Quarrel 
between  King  and  Dauphin — Its  results — The  conspirators — 
Father  and  son. 

DURING  this  year  the  Dauphin  paid  his  first  visit 
to  his  birthplace,  Fontainebleau.  It  was  the 
custom  with  the  King  and  Queen  to  spend  the  autumn 
months  there.  Marie,  no  less  than  her  husband,  liked 
the  place,  and  it  offered  a  welcome  variety  after  life  in 
Paris.  The  Louvre,  it  was  true,  was  no  longer  what 
it  had  been  when  Henri  brought  his  bride  thither,  and, 
looking  with  half  incredulous  wonder  at  the  worn 
furniture  and  faded  hangings  of  the  dimly  lighted 
chambers,  the  daughter  of  the  Medici  had  questioned 
whether  this  could  in  truth  be  the  palace  of  the  French 
Kings.  Marie  had  quickly  transformed  her  new 
dwelling-place  into  an  abode  more  in  harmony  with 
the  traditions  of  her  race  ;  had  had  the  walls  painted 
in  delicately  tinted  arabesques,  laid  down  rich  carpets, 
and  worked  such  other  changes  as  were  necessary  to 
make  it  a  fit  setting  for  the  royalty  of  France.  But 
Fontainebleau  had  attractions  of  its  own  ;  and  at  such 
times  as  the  Louvre  was  handed  over  to  be  cleaned, 

78 


or  when 


Fontainebleau  79 


CL 

F 


r  when  the  country  invited  a  visit,  King  and  Queen 
equally  rejoiced  to  resort  to  it. 

In  what  Henri  termed  u  nos  delicieux  deserts  de 
ontainebleau,"  comparative  freedom  from  the  con- 
ventional restraints  of  court  life  was  enjoyed.  Only 
a  limited  number  of  the  household  could  be  lodged 
there,  guests  being  at  times  requested  to  bring  their 
own  beds  and  other  necessaries.  Few  dresses  sufficed 
Marie  on  these  occasions,  and  the  straw  hats  sent  her 
from  Italy  were  brought  into  requisition,  as,  sheltered 
from  the  sun  by  a  great  parasol,  she  fed  the  birds 
or  looked  on  at  the  fishing  for  carp.  Two  of  these 
remarkable  fish  had  been  captured,  she  wrote  once 
to  a  friend,  one  of  them  at  least  eight  hundred  years 
old,  if  not  much  more — the  other  numbering  some 
three  or  four  centuries.  "  I  ate  the  head  of  the  fish," 
she  added,  "  and  enjoyed  rummaging  in  it,  as  if  it 
had  been  some  fine  cabinet." 

Men  and  women  alike  hunted  in  the  forest,  sharing 
the  King's  favourite  pastime. 

Into  the  pleasures  of  this  holiday  resort  the  Dauphin 
was  to  be  initiated  ;  passing  through  Paris  on  his 
way  thither,  where  the  greeting  of  the  crowd  may 
have  owed  part  of  its  enthusiasm  to  the  remem- 
nce  of  the  plots  lately  laid  against  his  life, 
spite  of  the  failure  of  the  conspiracy,  its  features 
re  fresh  in  all  men's  minds  ;  and  to  the  King  in 
pecial  the  events  of  the  summer  must  have  helped  to 
ing  home  the  thought  of  the  activity  of  the  hostile 
rces  at  work,  and  convinced  him — did  he  need  con- 
cing — that  not  alone  for  him,  but  for  his  child,  the 
assassin  lay  in  wait. 


8o  The  Making  of  a  King 

Yet  the  autumn  weeks  passed  pleasantly  at  Fontaine- 
bleau,  notwithstanding  ebullitions  of  temper  on  the 
part  of  the  Dauphin — accustomed  to  rule  at  Saint- 
Germain — which  may  have  again  served  to  make  the 
Queen  fear  that  comparisons  might  be  instituted  to 
his  disadvantage.  Already,  at  the  chateau,  he  had 
developed  a  spirit  of  angry  jealousy  with  regard  to  the 
children  who  shared  the  King's  attention,  indignant  at 
one  moment  because  his  father  had  kissed  Alexandre 
Monsieur — now,  by  virtue  of  his  admission  into  the 
Order  of  the  Knights  of  Malta,  termed  M.  le  Chevalier 
— again,  keeping  Cesar  de  Vendome  at  a  distance,  and 
rubbing  his  hand  angrily  on  his  frock  when  the  boy 
presumed  to  kiss  it.  The  cushions  on  which  the 
Chevalier  and  his  sister  knelt  at  their  prayers  had  to 
be  removed — "  Pray  God  on  the  ground,"  he  bade 
them.  Even  his  own  little  sister  was  only  per- 
mitted the  honour  of  kissing  his  foot,  and  when  the 
King  had  inadvertently  seated  himself  in  the  place 
the  Dauphin  was  accustomed  to  occupy  at  Mass  he 
was  at  once  turned  out.  "  He  is  in  my  place.  Get 
out  of  it,"  ordered  the  infant  autocrat ;  and  the  King 
obeyed. 

The  temper  thus  displayed  was  not  unlikely  to  bring 
him  into  collision  with  his  father,  and  to  cause  anxiety 
to  those  about  him  when  the  two  were  in  daily  inter- 
course. The  visit  to  Fontainebleau,  nevertheless,  began 
well.  On  reaching  the  palace  the  King  was  found 
awaiting  the  travellers  at  the  entrance  of  the  pavilion, 
receiving  his  heir  with  kisses  and  embraces  ;  and  on 
the  following  day  the  child  was  introduced  to  all  the 
entertainment  the  place  could  be  made  to  supply. 


Father  and  Son  81 

Flinging  aside  for  the  moment  all  cares  of  state, 
Henri  devoted  himself  to  exhibiting  the  gardens  in 
person  to  the  new-comer  ;  took  him  in  the  early  morning 
to  wakkn  the  Queen  ;  and  during  the  following  days 
did  his  best  to  minister  to  his  little  son's  amusement. 
The  various  birds  were  displayed  by  the  King — swans, 
pheasants,  ducks  ;  the  child  being  given  bread  to  throw 
to  them.  The  fountains,  too,  were  a  special  delight, 
the  Dauphin  turning  the  water  off  and  on  with  his  own 
hands,  and  wetting  his  father  as  he  did  so.  He  would 
have  been  hard  to  please  had  he  not  been  satisfied  with 
the  entertainment  provided  for  him  ;  and  though 
fretful  and  ill-tempered  at  times,  and  still  apt  to  resent 
any  attention  paid  to  his  companions,  all  on  the  whole 
went  well. 

Again  and  again  Heroard's  narration  calls  up  pictures 
not  without  pathos  when  it  is  remembered  how  short 
was  the  time  that  father  and  son  were  to  be  together. 
"  At  five  the  King  comes  home  from  hunting.  [The 
Dauphin]  goes  running  to  meet  the  King,  who  grows 
pale  with  joy  and  gladness,  kisses  and  holds  him  long 
embraced  ;  leads  him  into  his  cabinet,  walks  up  and 
down,  holding  him  by  the  hand,  only  changing  the 
hand  when  he  turns,  without  saying  a  word,  whilst  he 
listens  to  M.  de  Villeroy  making  his  reports  to  the 
King.  He  cannot  leave  the  King,  nor  the  King  him. 

.  .  Put  to  bed  at  half-past  eight,  the  King  comes  and 
kisses  him.  The  King  exceedingly  happy."  Such 
incidents,  often  repeated,  are  curious  interludes  in  the 
life  of  danger,  care,  anxiety,  and  coarse  pleasure  led  by 
Henri. 

scene  of  another  kind   must   have   struck  those 

6 


82  The  Making  of  a  King 

looking  on  at  it  strangely,  with  its  superficial  pretence 
of  amity,  whilst  in  the  minds  of  all  must  have  been 
present  the  blow  that  had  been  so  lately  aimed  at 
father  and  son. 

A  Spaniard,  the  Count  de  Sora,  Equerry  to  the 
Archduke,  and  on  his  way  to  Spain,  is  presented  to 
the  Dauphin  by  his  father.. 

"  My  son,"  asks  Henri,  "  what  will  you  send  to 
Spain  by  M.  le  Comte?  " 

"  I  kiss  her  hands/'  says  the  child,  falling  at  once 
into  his  part. 

"  Is  [the  Infanta]  your  mistress  ?  Do  you  love 
her  well?" 

"Like  my  heart,"  replies  the  Dauphin,  repeating  his 
lesson  ;  and  M.  le  Comte,  perhaps  conscious  that  the 
King  is  laughing  in  his  sleeve,  takes  leave  of  the  child 
who,  had  the  plot  in  which  Spain  was  implicated  been 
crowned  with  success,  would  have  died  by  the  traitor's 
hand. 

Notwithstanding  the  boy's  real  and  increasing  affec- 
tion for  his  father — an  affection  growing  with  his 
years — the  visit  was  not  destined  to  prove  altogether 
successful  ;  and  towards  the  end  of  October  a  serious 
quarrel  took  place  ;  the  episode  showing  the  King  in 
i  new  light — "  tres-tendre,"  to  quote  the  editors  of  the 
doctor's  journal,  "  tres-taquin,  tres-emporte,  et  tres- 
enfant." 

Absorbed  in  a  favourite  toy — a  drum  working  by 
springs — the  boy  had  been  taken  to  his  father  against 
his  will,  and  trouble  at  once  ensued.  Having  omitted 
to  uncover  in  the  King's  presence,  Henri  ordered  him 
sharply  to  take  off  his  hat  ;  and,  when  the  child  found 


A  Quarrel  83 

a  difficulty  in  obeying,  removed  it  with  his  own  hands. 
Already  pre-disposed  to  wrath,  nothing  more  was 
needed  to  put  the  Dauphin  into  a  thoroughly  bad 
temper. 

"  He  is  angry.  Then  the  King  takes  away  his 
drum  and  drum-sticks.  This  was  still  worse.  (  My 
hat,  my  drum,  my  drumsticks/  The  King,  to  annoy 
him,  puts  the  hat  on  his  own  head.  *  I  want  my  hat/ 
The  King  strikes  him  with  it  on  the  head.  He  is 
angry,  and  the  King  is  angry  with  him.  The  King 
takes  him  by  the  wrists,  and  lifts  him  into  the  air, 
extending  his  little  arms  in  a  cross.  *  He  I  you  hurt 
me  !  HI !  my  drum  !  Ht !  my  hat !  '  The  Queen 
gives  him  back  his  hat  ;  then  his  drumsticks.  It  was 
a  little  tragedy." 

Carried  away  still  enraged,  he  could  neither  be 
comforted  nor  quieted  in  spite  of  all  that  could  be 
done.  Having  been  whipped,  he  kicked  and  scratched 
Madame  de  Montglat.  At  last  his  nurse,  possibly 
more  pitiful  than  the  gouvernantey  took  him  apart  and 
reasoned  with  him  gravely. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  said,  "  you  have  been  very 
stubborn.  You  must  not  be  so.  You  must  obey 
papa." 

"  Kill  Mamanga"  l  he  said  with  a  great  sigh,  "  she 
is  wicked.  I  will  kill  all  the  world.  I  will  kill 
God/' 

Ah,    no,    Monsieur,"   replied    the    nurse.     u  You 
drink  His  blood  every  day  when  you  drink  wine." 

The  child  stopped  short. 

"I    drink    the    blood    of    the    good    God?"    he 
1  Madame  de  Montglat. 


84  The  Making  of  a  King 

asked.  "  Then  He  must  not  be  killed,"  and, 
in  spite  of  sobbing  sighs,  allowed  himself  to  be 
appeased. 

The  effect  of  the  incident  did  not  pass  off  for  some 
time.  The  Dauphin,  hurt  and  strained  by  the  King's 
rough  usage,  was  at  first  ill  and  nervous  ;  and,  when 
recovered,  continued  to  nurs«  his  resentment.  Sent  for 
by  his  father,  it  was  necessary  to  compel  him  to  obey 
the  summons  ;  he  was  quiet  and  sullen  in  his  presence, 
and  anxious  to  escape  from  it,  parading  his  indifference 
to  the  King's  movements.  When  all  were  crowding 
to  the  windows  to  watch  Henri  set  forth  to  hunt,  he 
remained  in  his  place,  merely  asking  coldly  if  papa 
were  going  hunting?  His  free  and  fearless  bearing 
was  replaced  by  shrinking  and  timidity,  and,  taken 
with  Verneuil  to  visit  the  King  and  Queen  in  bed,  he 
withdrew  in  sulky  silence  to  his  mother's  side,  leaving 
his  father,  contrary  to  his  custom,  to  his  half-brother. 
When  Verneuil,  however,  would  have  in  turn  ap- 
proached the  Queen  the  Dauphin  made  it  clear  that  this 
would  not  be  permitted,  giving  the  boy,  still  without 
a  word,  a  blow  which  caused  him,  also  in  silence,  to 
retire  discomfited.  With  the  Queen  at  least  Verneuil 
was  to  have  no  dealings. 

Even  after  the  children  had  quitted  Fontainebleau 
and  were  again  at  Saint-Germain  the  Dauphin  con- 
tinued, with  singular  tenacity,  to  cherish  the  remem- 
brance of  his  wrongs.  Hearing  that  the  King  and 
Queen  were  expected  at  the  chateau,  he  expressed  his 
regret,  and  displayed  an  unwillingness  to  be  taken  to 
meet  them,  and  though  Heroard  set  himself,  by  means 
of  a  combination  of  promises  and  threats,  to  produce  a 


Auvergne  in  Prison  85 

better    frame  of  mind,  his  efforts  were  not   attended 
with  success. 

"  You  will,  then,  not  have  the  fine  drum  and  beautiful 
drumsticks  that  [the  King]  is  bringing  you,"  he  warned 
him.  "  He  will  give  them  to  M.  de  Verneuil.  Eh 
bien ! "  as  the  child  flung  himself  upon  him  in  an  access 
of  fury,  "  eh  bien  !  you  beat  me.  What  do  you  wish 
papa  to  do  with  that  drum  ? " 

"  *  Let  him  give  it  to  Moucheu  de  Veneuil,'  he 
replied,  shaking  his  head  as  if  it  was  a  thing  he 
despised.  He  cannot  forget  the  rough  treatment  at 
Fontainebleau." 

The  child's  demeanour  was  a  vexation  to  Henri, 
who,  probably  conscious  that  he  himself  had  been  to 
blame,  was  inclined  to  lay  the  responsibility  for  his 
son's  prolonged  resentment  on  others.  But  he  can 
have  had  no  more  than  a  divided  attention  to  bestow 
upon  the  Dauphin's  ill-humour ;  and  more  serious 
subjects  were  weighing  on  his  mind.  The  first  tardy 
step  had  been  taken  towards  meting  out  justice  to 
the  traitors  concerned  in  the  late  conspiracy  :  the 
Comte  d'Auvergne  had  been  captured  and  was  in 
prison,  his  fate  uncertain.  Having  remained  for  some 
time  at  a  safe  distance  in  his  own  province  of 
Auvergne,  he  had  ventured  to  quit  his  place  of  refuge 
on  the  occasion  of  some  military  display,  and  was  at 
once  arrested.  The  King,  observed  some  one  in  the 
Dauphin's  presence,  knew  how  to  catch  his  enemies. 

"  Are  my  enemies  taken  ?  "  asked  the  boy,  identify- 
ing himself,  notwithstanding  recent  passages  of  arms, 
with  his  father.  "  Where  are  they  ?  "  learning  that 
they  were  lodged  in  the  Bastille. 


86  The  Making  of  a  King 

D'Entragues  was,  shortly  after,  placed  in  confine- 
ment in  the  Conciergerie,  and  -his  daughter,  though 
undergoing  no  regular  imprisonment,  was  kept  under 
supervision  in  the  faubourg  Saint-Germain,  carefully 
guarded. 

She  was  no  coward,  and  met  the  situation  with 
proud  defiance.  She  did  not,  she  said,  fear  death  ; 
on  the  contrary,  she  desired  it.  But,  should  the  King 
cause  her  to  die,  it  would  always  be  said  that  he  had 
slain  his  wife.  ,  She,  rather  than  Marie,  was  Queen. 
Three  things  she  asked  of  his  Majesty  :  a  pardon 
for  her  father,  a  rope  for  her  brother — who,  it  may 
be  mentioned,  had  in  dastardly  fashion  sought  to 
throw  the  blame  of  his  treason  on  his  sister  and 
d'Entragues — and  justice  for  herself.  Nor  could  she 
be  brought  to  sue  for  the  forgiveness  which  Henri 
was  only  too  anxious  to  bestow.  Where  offence  was 
none  there  was  no  subject-matter  for  a  pardon,  she 
said,  and  if  the  King  had  been  told  that  she  desired 
one  it  was  false.  "With  which  his  Majesty  was  very 
ill  satisfied."  When  the  Comtesse  d'Auvergne,  on 
the  other  hand,  threw  herself  at  his  feet,  imploring 
his  clemency  on  behalf  of  her  husband,  the  King, 
whilst  treating  her  personally  with  courtesy,  and  ex- 
pressing his  compassion,  explained — taking  the  Queen's 
arm  as  he  spoke — that  to  listen  to  her  entreaties  would 
be  equivalent  to  a  declaration  that  his  marriage  was 
void  and  his  son  a  bastard. 

The  objects  of  the  conspiracy  had  been  defeated  ; 
its  promoters  were  in  the  King's  hands  ;  the  present 
danger  had  been  averted.  Domestic  peace  had  also 
been  restored  at  Saint-Germain.  "Le  petit  valet  de 


A  Reconciliation 


papa,"  as  the  Dauphin  was  learning  to  call  himself, 
was  beginning  to  show  self-restraint  and  to  control 
his  temper.  Father  and  son  were  once  more  on  good 
terms.  When,  shortly  before  the  close  of  the  year, 
the  King  gave  audience  to  a  deputation  from  the 
States  of  Normandy,  the  boy  was  at  his  side,  and  was 
presented  to  them  as  their  future  King.  He  would 
leave  behind  him,  Henri  said,  in  concluding  his 
speech,  a  son  who  would  carry  out  the  measures  he 
had  set  on  foot  for  their  benefit. 

The  Dauphin  had  listened  attentively  to  what 
went  on. 

"  Grand  merci,  papa"  he  said  coldly,  as  he  heard 
the  promise  given. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

• 

1605 

Results  of  the  conspiracy — Rosny  and  his  enemies — Temporary  es- 
trangement of  the  King — Their  reconciliation — The  Dauphin  and 
Rosny — The  Spanish  match  projected — The  Dauphin's  love  for 
his  father — Visit  of  Queen  Marguerite — The  King  and  Queen  on 
good  terms — The  Marquise  at  Saint-Germain. 

IN  the  end  the  King's  clemency  again  triumphed  over 
the  counsels  of  those  who  would  have  made  an 
example  of  the  promoters  of  the  latest  attempt  to 
subvert  his  government.  The  Marquise  and  her 
father  escaped  chastisement,  and  the  capital  penalty 
was,  in  Auvergne's  case,  commuted  into  an  imprison- 
ment lasting  over  several  years.  His  attempts  to  shift 
the  blame  upon  others,  and  his  demeanour  at  his  trial, 
showed  him  to  be  worthy  of  little  compassion. 

The  conspiracy  had,  at  all  events,  resulted  in  the 
destruction  of  the  notorious  promise  of  marriage  which 
had  been  so  dangerous  an  engine  in  the  hands  of  the 
Queen's  enemies  ;  the  menace  it  had  contained  to 
her  rights  and  those  of  the  Dauphin  was  at  an  end, 
and,  not  less  important  to  the  domestic  peace  of  the 
palace,  the  King  had  been  temporarily  emancipated 
from  the  control  of  the  Marquise. 

If,  however,  there  were  those  who  indulged  the 
hope  that,  his  eyes  having  been  once  opened  to  her 


Rosny  and  his  Enemies  89 

true  aims  and  ambitions,  the  estrangement  would  prove 
permanent,  they  were  doomed  to  disappointment ;  a 
note  written  in  February  1 605  proving  that  her  delin- 
quencies were  already  on  the  way  to  be,  if  not  for- 
gotten, forgiven.  She  was  to  be  permitted  to  see  her 
father — by  this  time  set  at  liberty — though  enjoined 
to  pass  no  more  than  a  day  with  him,  "  for  his  con- 
tagion is  dangerous."  She  was  likewise  to  be  allowed 
to  visit  her  children  at  Saint-Germain,  and  a  meeting 
was  to  be  arranged  with  the  King  himself.  The 
letter  displays  the  injured  man  in  an  attitude  which 
must  have  caused  surprise  to  those  who  knew  him 
best. 

Such  being  the  case,  it  was  perhaps  not  unnatural 
that  his  friendship  with  Rosny,  who  never  pandered 
to  what  was  worst  in  his  master,  who  never  shrank 
from  pointing  out  his  failings,  or  stooped  to  flattery, 
should  have  undergone  a  momentary  eclipse.  There 
were  many  who  would  have  rejoiced  in  the  minister's 
disgrace.  The  man  who  controlled  the  King's  expen- 
diture, public  and  private,  who  checked  his  extravagance 
or  his  reckless  liberality,  was  certain  to  be  the  object 
of  the  hostility  of  every  person  averse  to  economical 
aims  and  methods,  and  the  ultimate  failure  of  their 
efforts  to  detach  Henri  from  the  love  and  trust  he 
had  bestowed  upon  his  servant  is  perhaps  a  greater  title 
to  honour  than  any  other  to  be  found  in  his  record. 

Reviewing  the  position,  Rosny  saw  ranged  against 
him  divers  classes  of  the  community.  There  were 
the  great  officers  of  the  Crown,  jealous  of  his  as- 
cendancy ;  the  Catholics,  distrustful  of  the  Huguenot 
minister,  and  many  of  them  attached  to  the  Spanish 


9°  The  Making  of  a  King 

interest ;  the  idlers  about  Court  and  palace,  conscious 
of  his  contempt ;  the  turbulent  and  seditious,  seeking 
to  disturb  the  tranquillity  of  the  realm  ;  and  above 
all  others,  those  who  owed  a  grudge  to  the  states- 
man who  held  the  purse-strings. 

Straws  show  which  way  the  wind  blows,  and  the 
sentiments  entertained  with  regard  to  Rosny  continued 
to  find  their  reflection  in  the  nursery  at  Saint-Germain. 
Almost  in  babyhood,  the  Dauphin  received  his  father's 
friend  with  coldness,  refusing  to  permit  him  to  kiss 
his  hand.  Again,  when  a  letter  was  brought  from 
the  minister,  he  would  have  had  it  thrown  out  of 
the  window,  notwithstanding  an  accompanying  gift 
of  toys.  Later,  visited  by  Rosny  in  person,  and 
enjoined  by  Madame  de  Montglat  to  ask  him  for 
money  in  order  that,  by  giving  it  away,  he  might 
escape  the  charge  of  miserliness,  he  refused. 

"  It  is  not  his — it  is  papas"  the  child  answered 
sulkily. 

Incidents  of  the  kind,  trivial  as  they  are,  indicate 
the  aspect  in  which  the  minister  was  regarded  at 
Saint-Germain,  no  less  than  in  the  King's  own  environ- 
ment, where  no  method  was  left  untried  to  poison 
Henri's  mind  against  him. 

In  the  spring  of  1605  it  seemed  that  his  foes  had 
obtained  their  wish,  and  the  change  in  his  master's 
deportment  called  forth  a  letter  in  which  he  begged 
to  be  informed  of  the  King's  causes  of  displeasure. 
The  dryness  of  Henri's  answer  cannot  have  been 
reassuring. 

"  I  should  require  more  time  and  leisure  than  I  have 
at  present,"  he  wrote,  "  were  I  to  reply  to  the  dis- 


Rosny  in  Disgrace  91 

courses,  reasoning,  and  complaints  of  your  letter  of 
March  13.  I  will,  therefore,  permit  you  to  speak  of 
it  when  next  I  see  you  and  am  at  leisure.  Mean- 
time, I  would  advise  you  to  act  according  to  the 
counsels  you  offer  me  when  I  give  way  to  anger  with 
regard  to  those  who  blame  my  conduct — that  is,  to 
let  the  world  say  what  it  pleases  without  tormenting 
yourself  about  the  matter,  and  to  act  always  better 
and  better.  Thus  you  will  show  the  strength  of  your 
mind,  will  make  your  innocence  apparent,  and  will 
preserve  my  good-will,  of  which  you  may  be  as  well 
assured  as  ever." 

Rosny  was  strong  and  patient,  and  may  have  felt 
that,   confident    in  his  innocence,  he  could   afford  to 
wait.     He  made  no  attempt  to   hasten  the   promised 
opportunity     of    exculpation,     though    as    the    weeks 
went  by  matters  between  himself  and  the  King  went 
from  bad  to  worse.     Those  who  looked  on  may  well 
have  believed    that   the   minister's  fall  was   at   hand, 
when  Henri  said  in  their  hearing   that  a    day  might 
come  when  he  would  work  more  ill  to  the  State  than 
Coligny    himself.     His  enemies  were   busily  at  work. 
Slanders    were    poured  into  the  King's  ears  ;  written 
libels  were  placed    in    his    hands.     Nor  was    it    until 
May    that    an   explanation    took    place.       Even    then 
it  was   not  by  the  minister  that  it  was  invited.     In- 
trenched   in    his    silence,    he  went    his    way,    making 
no    attempt  to  regain  his  master's    trust,  and  leaving 
it  to  the  King  to  decide  when  the  "  leisure  "  of  which 
he  had  spoken    should    give   him    an    opportunity  to 
make  his  vindication. 

Whether  his  course  were  dictated  by  policy  or  pride, 


92  The  Making  of  a  King 

it  was  wholly  successful.  Henri,  possibly  not  insensible 
to  the  mute  rebuke  contained  in  the  deportment  of  the 
man  who  had  served  him  so  well,  and  whom  he  had 
now,  unheard,  shut  out  from  his  confidence,  at  last 
broke  the  silence  ;  and  when,  one  day,  Rosny  was 
taking  leave  of  him  and  returning  to  Paris,  he  called 
him  back. 

"  Have  you  nothing  whatever  to  say  to  me  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  For  the  present,  nothing,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Well,  I  have  much  to  say  to  you,"  retorted  the 
King.  Taking  him  by  the  hand,  he  led  him  to  an 
alley  secure  from  eaves-droppers,  further  ensuring 
secrecy  by  placing  at  its  entrance  a  couple  of  Swiss 
guards  ignorant  of  the  French  language.  There  for 
no  less  than  four  hours  the  two  walked  up  and  down 
in  earnest  converse.  If  the  anxious  courtiers  were 
debarred  from  hearing  what  passed,  they  could  com- 
mand a  view  of  the  alley,  and  could  see  that  Henri 
embraced  his  friend,  as  he  confessed  that,  remember- 
ing twenty-three  years  of  affectionate  intercourse,  he 
had  found  the  coldness  and  reserve  of  the  past  weeks 
intolerable.  "  For,  to  speak  truth,"  he  said,  "  if  I 
have  not  communicated  all  my  fancies  to  you  as  I  have 
been  accustomed  to  do,  I  think  you  also  have  concealed 
many  of  your  own  from  me."  A  remedy  was  to  be 
applied  to  this  state  of  things,  and  the  malice  of 
Rosny's  enemies  was  to  be  defeated.  The  King  had 
decided,  so  he  said,  to  impart  to  him  all  the  fine  tales 
he  had  been  told  to  his  discredit ;  "  for  I  desire  that 
you  and  I  should  come  out  of  this,  our  hearts  clear 
from  any  suspicion,  and  content  with  one  another.  .  .  . 


Restored  to  Favour  93 

I  will  open  my  heart  to  you,  praying  that  you  will 
conceal  from  me  nothing  that  is  in  your  own." 

Henri  kept  his  word.  The  falsehoods  invented  by 
slanderous  tongues  were  faithfully  repeated  to  the  man 
they  concerned  ;  a  libellous  document  was  handed 
over  for  his  perusal.  Reading  it  carefully  from  end 
to  end,  without  change  of  colour,  Rosny  made  his 
defence,  refuting  the  charges  brought  against  him  one 
by  one,  rendering  with  every  word  his  triumph  more 
complete.  Then,  his  vindication  made,  he  would  have 
tendered  his  solemn  oath  of  fidelity  at  his  master's 
feet  had  not  Henri,  perceiving  at  once  the  interpreta- 
tion that  would  be  put  upon  the  action  by  the  curious 
and  malevolent  spectators  who  were  watching  the  scene 
from  a  distance,  been  quick  to  prevent  him  from 
assuming  an  attitude  which  might  be  understood  as 
accompanying  a  prayer  for  pardon.  Expressing  his 
entire  conviction  of  the  minister's  innocence,  he  took 
him  by  the  hand  and  led  him  out  from  the  alley,  to 
meet  the  whole  Court  awaiting  him  at  its  entrance. 

Finding,  on  inquiry,  that  four  hours  had  elapsed 
whilst  the  interview  had  been  carried  on,  and  that  it 
was  close  upon  one  o'clock,  the  King  observed,  not 
without  malice,  that  since  some  persons  had  doubtless 
found  the  time  pass  more  slowly  than  himself,  he 
would  tell  them,  for  their  consolation,  that  he  loved 
Rosny  more  than  ever,  and  that,  between  himself  and 
his  minister,  it  was  for  life  and  death.  With  which 
defiance  to  the  men  who  would  have  severed  him 
from  his  friend,  the  King  dismissed  him  to  his  dinner. 

Rosny 's  enemies  were  for  the  time  defeated.  That 
they  continued  to  indoctrinate  the  Dauphin  with  their 


94  The  Making  of  a  King 

hostility  is  shown  by  a  scene  taking  place  at  Saint- 
Germain  a  month  later  ;  when  the  minister  having 
brought  the  child  a  purse  full"  of  coins  he  refused 
the  gift. 

"  I  do  not  want  it,"  he  said  ungraciously.  "  It  is 
not  a  pretty  one  ;  it  is  ugly.  If  you  give  it  me  I  will 
throw  it  into  the  moat,"  and  even  when  the  shining 
"  dauphins "  and  half-crowns  were  poured  out  he 
refused  to  be  propitiated.  "  Allez,  vilaine,"  he  said, 
restoring  the  coins  to  the  purse  and  flinging  it  away. 

It  may  be  that,  on  this  occasion,  those  about  the 
boy  regretted  that  he  had  learnt  his  lesson  so  well  ; 
it  would  have  been  no  part  of  their  plan  that  he 
should  decline  any  largesse  proffered  by  the  Super- 
intendent of  Finance.  But  no  rebuke  or  punishment 
is  recorded  as  following  upon  his  ill-humour  and 
bad  manners. 

It  is  curious  that,  at  a  time  when  the  enmity  of 
Spain  and  its  readiness  to  make  common  cause  with 
Henri's  domestic  adversaries  had  been  once  again  em- 
phatically manifested,  the  idea  of  a  marriage  between 
the  Dauphin  and  the  Infanta  continued  to  be  a  favourite 
project  at  the  French  Court ;  and  that  the  King  himself, 
resolute  in  his  opposition  to  the  plan  at  a  later  date, 
is  found  alluding  to  the  possibility  of  its  being  carried 
into  effect. 

"  I  should  like  you  and  the  Infanta  to  have  a  little 
Dauphin  like  yourself,"  he  once  told  his  son,  playing 
with  the  subject. 

"  Non  pas,  s'il  vous  plait,  papa"  returned  the  child, 
lifting  his  hand  in  military  salute. 

Again  and  again  his  attendants  strove  to  accustom 


The  Dauphin  and  Spain  95 

their  charge,  thus  early,  to  think  of  Anne  as  his  future 
bride,  sometimes  finding  him  ready  to  lend  a  favourable 
ear  to  their  suggestions,  sometimes  encountering  opposi- 
tion. Did  he  not  love  Spaniards  ?  some  one  asked, 
demanding  his  reasons  when  he  answered  in  the 
negative. 

"  Because  they  are  papa  s  enemies/'  answered  the 
boy.  Instinctively  he  had  divined  the  fact  that  they 
were  to  be  regarded  with  suspicion. 

"  Spaniards  ?  "  he  said,  when  told  that  some  Spanish 
nobles  were  asking  to  be  admitted  to  his  presence. 
"Spaniards  ?  Then  give  me  my  sword." 

Since  she  was  of  that  nation,  he  would  have  none  of 
the  Infanta,  so  he  declared.  When,  however,  it  was 
explained  that  she  would  make  him  King  of  Spain, 
becoming  herself  Queen  of  France,  he  smiled,  and  on 
the  occasion  of  a  second  visit  from  the  Count  de  Sora, 
now  on  his  way  back  from  Spain,  he  consented  to  make 
a  gracious  response  to  the  greetings  he  brought. 

"  Because  they  are  papa  s  enemies."  More  and 
more  the  Dauphin  was  acquiring  the  love  for  his 
father  which  had  grown  so  strong  before  their  final 
parting  ;  more  and  more  he  was  learning  to  submit 
his  childish  will  to  the  will  of  the  King.  Henri  was 
master  ;  his  wishes  were  law  ;  gladly  and  willingly  the 
boy  had  begun — in  spite  of  occasional  moods  of  re- 
bellion— to  recognise  his  supremacy.  Trifling  incidents 
showed  the  change.  As  the  children  marched  to  Mass 
in  military  array,  the  Chevalier  carrying  a  blue  banner, 
the  Dauphin  armed  with  his  arquebus,  he  bade  little 
Verneuil  uncover. 

'You  must  not  wear    your    hat  in  my  presence," 


96  The  Making  of  a  King 

he  told  him.  Learning  that  it  was  by  the  King's 
orders,  he  was  prompt  in  rescinding  his  directions. 

"  Put  it  on,  put  it  on,"  he  said  hurriedly.  "  Le 
petit  valet  de  papa  "  was  eager  to  display  his  loyalty 
towards  the  single  person  he  acknowledged  to  be 
his  superior.  Watching  the  soldiers  on  parade,  he 
insisted  upon  tendering,  lik*  them,  his  oath  of  fidelity 
to  the  King,  administering  it  himself  to  his  brothers 
in  their  turn. 

"  Fefe"  he  asked,  "  do  you  promise  to  serve  papa 
well?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

"  And  I  too,"  repeated  the  Dauphin. 

During  the  summer  of  1605  a  visit  was  paid  to  the 
chateau  by  Marguerite  de  Valois,  come  thither  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  her  successor's  son.  Far 
from  owing  Marie  de  Medicis  any  grudge,  she  was 
anxious  to  maintain  the  rights  of  a  woman  in  part  of 
her  own  blood  and  race.  That  she  was  thus  friendlily 
disposed  was  of  the  greater  importance,  as  it  was 
currently  reported  that  the  Due  de  Bouillon— who  had 
never  made  his  submission  since  Biron's  execution,  but 
held  aloof,  a  constant  menace  to  the  tranquillity  of  the 
country — had  conceived  the  design  of  obtaining  posses- 
sion of  her  person,  with  the  object  of  bringing  pressure 
to  induce  her  to  declare,  in  case  of  the  King's  death, 
that  her  acquiescence  in  the  divorce  had  been  obtained 
by  force.  A  statement  of  this  kind  would  have  con- 
stituted a  real  danger  to  the  Dauphin.  Marguerite, 
however,  had  no  intention  of  playing  into  the  hands  of 
the  Huguenots,  and  her  reappearance  at  Court  made 
her  disposition  clear. 


Photo  by  A .  Giraudon,  after  a  drawing  by  F.  Clonet  in  the  Biblioiheque  Nation 

MARGUERITE    DE    VALOIS,    CALLED    QUEEN    MARGOT. 
•96] 


- 


Marguerite  de  ValoiS  97 

She  came  with  the  avowed  intention  of  constituting 
the  Dauphin  her  heir,  and  was  cordially  received  by  his 
father  and  the  Queen  at  Monceaux — the  estate  bestowed 
by  Henri  upon  his  wife  at  the  Dauphin's  birth.  During 
the  month  of  July  her  visit  to  Saint-Germain  was  paid, 
presenting  a  curious  picture  of  the  manners  and  customs 
of  the  times,  and  in  particular  of  the  household  of 
Henri-Quatre. 

The  approaching  event  had  been  naturally  a  subject 
of  discussion  at  the  chateau,  a  question  having  been 
raised  as  to  the  mode  of  address  to  be  adopted  by  the 
Dauphin  towards  the  woman  who  had  once  occupied 
his  mother's  place.  To  the  suggestion  that  he  should 
call  her  aunt  he  demurred.  Madame,  he  said,  could 
use  that  name  ;  he  would  call  her  sister. 

The  discussion  was  terminated  by  a  message  from 
Marie  to  the  effect  that  her  son  was  to  give  Marguerite 
her  own  title  of  maman.  Two  days  later  the  boy  is 
found  employing  it,  on  the  occasion  of  a  visit  from  the 
Queen's  maitre  cChotel^  sent  to  greet  him  and  to  make 
his  mistress's  excuses  for  delaying  her  visit  to  Saint- 
Germain  till  she  had  recovered  from  the  fatigue  of  her 
journey. 

"  I  humbly  thank  her,"  answered  the  well-drilled 
child.  "  I  am  her  servant.  How  is  maman  ?  " 

By  August  6  King  and  Queen  were  also  at  Saint- 
Germain,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  guest ;  and  that 
afternoon  the  whole  party  of  children  were  sent  to 

eet  and  welcome  her.  As  she  drew  near,  the  Dauphin 
was  taken  out  of  his  carriage,  the  Queen  descending 

om  her  litter.     Bareheaded,  the  boy  was  lifted  up  by 
is  body-servant  to  kiss  her,  discarding  in  his  greeting 

7 


9&  The  Making  of  a  King 

the  prescribed  formula  and  using  a  name  he  had  him- 
self devised. 

"  Welcome  to  you,"  he  said,  "  maman  ma  file" 

"  Monsieur,"  replied  the  Queen,  "  I  thank  you. 
I  have  long  desired  to  see  you." 

Again  she  kissed  him,  whilst,  pretending  to  be 
abashed,  he  hid  his  face  with  his  hat. 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  How  handsome 
you  are  !  You  have  indeed  the  royal  bearing  befitting 
the  sovereignty  one  day  to  be  yours." 

After  which,  the  other  children  having  been  duly 
greeted,  the  party  turned  homewards,  the  Dauphin 
falling  asleep  half-way  and  being  carried  into  the 
chateau  in  that  condition. 

The  visit  was  a  success.  Upon  her  successor's 
children  Marguerite  lavished  gifts  and  caresses  ;  with 
the  King  and  his  wife  her  intercourse  was  friendly 
and  intimate.  "  I  have  my  sister,  Queen  Marguerite, 
here  with  me,"  the  King  wrote  in  a  letter  of  this  date, 
"  who  bears  herself  after  a  fashion  very  pleasing 
to  me." 

Perhaps  the  most  singular  scene  recorded  was  when 
one  morning  the  Dauphin,  taken  to  visit  his  mother  in 
bed,  found  the  King  seated  upon  it,  Margot  on  her 
knees  at  the  Queen's  side  ;  whilst  the  child,  completing 
the  group,  was  lifted  up  and  sat  on  the  bed  playing 
with  a  little  dog. 

That  some  at  least  of  those  less  immediately  con- 
cerned did  not  view  the  guest  with  favour  is  to  be 
inferred  from  an  incident  apparently  taking  place  later 
on,  when  the  Dauphin  had  been  transferred  to  the  care 
of  his  gouverneur,  M.  de  Souvre. 


Margot  at  Paris  99 

"  How  handsome  and  well-made  he  is !  "  cried 
Margot,  when  the  boy  was  brought  to  visit  her 
by  Souvre  and  his  subordinate,  Pluvenal.  "  How 
happy  is  the  Cheiron  who  has  the  bringing  up  of 
this  Achilles  !  " 

"Did  I  not  tell  you,"  grumbled  Pluvenal  to  his 
chief,  failing  to  catch  the  classic  allusion,  "that  this 
m&chante  femme  would  insult  us  ?  " 

Marguerite's  visit  to  Saint-Germain  over,  she  pro- 
ceeded to  Paris,  there  to  take  up  her  residence.  It 
was  reported  that  Henri  had  proffered  two  requests  : 
the  first  that  she  would  refrain  from  turning  day  into 
night,  as  she  had  done  formerly  ;  secondly,  that  she 
would  put  a  restraint  upon  her  excessive  liberality 
and  become  mhagere.  To  the  first  admonition  she 
promised  obedience,  so  far  as  in  her  lay,  confessing 
that  long  habit  might  interpose  a  difficulty  in  the  way 
of  its  observance.  As  to  the  other  matter  she  declined 
to  pledge  herself.  Liberality  ran  in  her  blood  ;  nor 
could  she  live  in  any  other  fashion.  Meantime,  to  the 
Parisians,  who  had  not  had  an  opportunity  of  studying 
her  at  close  quarters  for  twenty-four  years,  she  was  an 
object  of  interest  and  curiosity.  Ardent,  kindly,  clever, 
unprincipled  and  impulsive,  she  would  insist  upon 
holding  at  the  font  an  infant  to  whom  a  poor  Irish- 
woman had  chanced  to  give  birth  at  the  church  doors, 
inducing  the  Constable  of  France,  who  was  at  hand, 
to  act  the  part  of  her  fellow-sponsor.  Again,  Paris 
would  look  on  at  her  passionate  grief  for  the  violent 
death  of  one  of  her  favourites.  Swearing  neither  to 
eat  nor  drink  until  he  should  have  been  avenged,  she 
was  present  the  following  day  at  the  execution  of  the 


ioo  The  Making  of  a  King 

man  who  had  shot  him  ;  and  left  the  Hotel  de  Sens, 
where  she  had  lodged,  that  same  night,  declaring  she 
would  re-enter  it  no  more.  The  criminal,  for  his  part, 
died  gaily,  regretting  nothing  since  his  foe  was  slain  ; 
whilst  Mesnard,  by  Margot's  command,  published,  in 
commemoration  of  the  dead,  his  "Regrets  Amoureux," 
which  were  carried  about  by  the  Queen  and  recited 
evening  by  evening  ;  the  King  consoling  her  with  the 
assurance  that  as  brave  and  gallant  squires  as  Saint- 
Julien  were  still  to  be  found  in  his  Court,  and  that, 
should  she  desire  it,  more  than  a  dozen  should  be 
provided  for  her. 

In  September  Henri's  presence  was  required  in  the 
Limousin,  where  fresh  disturbances  were  apprehended. 
The  Queen  accompanied  him,  and  all  went  well.  The 
Due  de  Bouillon,  though  retaining  an  attitude  of 
injured  innocence,  remained  personally  at  a  safe  dis- 
tance ;  the  fortresses  against  which  the  expedition  was 
directed  being  placed  by  his  orders  in  the  hands  of  the 
King.  The  Queen  had  not  been  with  her  husband 
during  the  latter  part  of  his  absence,  but  his  letters 
were  full  of  affection.  Writing  to  her,  he  expressed 
his  joy  in  the  anticipation  of  a  speedy  return,  and 
mentioned  that  every  one's  spirits  were  rising  as 
they  turned  their  faces  towards  "  la  douce  France." 
In  another  of  the  love-letters  which  he  could  not 
refrain  from  addressing  even  to  his  wife,  he  told  her, 
after  giving  an  account  of  some  passing  malady,  that 
in  a  week  he  would  be  holding  her  in  his  arms  and 
she  should  cure  him.  By  November  Fontainebleau 
had  been  regained  ;  King  and  Queen  arriving,  though 
from  different  directions,  at  the  same  moment,  "de  quoi 


King  and  Queen  at  Peace  101 

ils  re^urent  grand  contentement."     A  happier  chapter 
of  domestic  life  seemed  to  be  opening  for  both. 

Such  intervals  in  her  life  of  discord  may  have  taught 
Marie  what  an  existence  spent  with  Henri  might, 
under  other  circumstances,  have  been  like.  When 
time  had  softened  the  memory  of  her  wrongs,  and 
the  past  was,  perhaps,  invested  with  some  degree  of 
glamour,  she  told  Richelieu  that,  their  quarrels  over 
for  the  moment,  the  King,  rejoicing  in  fair  weather, 
would  behave  "  avec  tant  de  douceur  "  as  to  cause  her 
to  look  back  with  pleasure  upon  the  time  passed 
with  him  and  upon  his  kindness.  It  is  not  incon- 
ceivable that  she  spoke  the  truth.  To  those  un- 
acquainted with  the  King's  incredible  weakness  it 
may  well  have  appeared  that,  in  spite  of  the  signs  of 
relenting  he  had  shown,  the  partial  rupture  with 
Madame  de  Verneuil  resulting  from  her  com- 
plicity in  her  father's  treason  must  be,  in  a  measure 
at  least,  lasting.  But  these  hopes  were  doomed  to 
disappointment,  and  at  the  end  of  the  year  those 
who  had  indulged  them  must  have  augured  ill  from 
the  fact  that  she  was  visiting  Saint-Germain,  where 
her  daughter  had  contracted  some  infectious  complaint. 
The  King's  orders  were  that,  whilst  the  other  children 
were  kept  apart  in  the  new  buildings  to  which  they 
had  been  removed,  the  Marquise's  son  was  to  be  per- 
mitted to  pass  his  time  with  his  mother  in  the  old 
chateau.  The  Dauphin,  it  would  appear,  did  not 
approve  of  an  arrangement  depriving  him  of  his  usual 
playfellow. 

"  Where    have    you  been  ?  "  he  demanded  of  Ver- 
neuil on  his  return, 


102  The  Making  of  a  King 

"  Mon  maitre"  answered  the  boy,  "  I  have  been  to 
see  maman  mignonne" 

"  She  is  yours,  not  mine,"  was  the  contemptuous 
reply. 

A  week  later  the  King,  come  back  from  the  Limou- 
sin, paid  a  visit  to  the  chateau.  Walking  with  his 
son  in  the  gardens,  old  memories  woke  within  him, 
and  he  told  how,  more  than  five-and- twenty  years 
ago,  he  had  been  a  prisoner  within  those  walls.  The 
captive  now  reigned  supreme,  had  triumphed  over  his 
enemies,  and  counted — perhaps — on  many  years  of  life. 
But  the  end  was  not  far  off. 


CHAPTER   IX 
1606 

New  Year's  Day — Rosny  becomes  Due  de  Sully— Expedition  against 
Bouillon — The  Dauphin  in  Paris — Bouillon  reduced  to  sub- 
mission— Brought  to  Saint-Germain — The  Dauphin's  baptism. 

WHEN  Rosny,  followed  by  three  secretaries  each 
bearing  a  velvet  bag,  arrived  at  the  Louvre 
on  the  morning  of  New  Year's  Day,  1606,  he  found 
a  certain  amount  of  confusion  prevailing  in  the 
palace.  The  Queen,  who  was  expecting  before 
long  the  birth  of  her  third  child,  had  not  been 
well  the  preceding  evening ;  the  King  had  been 
occupied  in  tending  her  most  of  the  night — also, 
it  would  appear,  in  quarrelling  with  her — had  scarcely 
slept,  and  had  been  consequently  late  in  awaking. 
Marie,  for  her  part,  was  either  still  asleep — which 
would  have  been  strange,  since  Henri  was  apparently 
receiving  many  guests  in  her  bed-chamber — or  was, 
as  her  husband  was  inclined  to  believe,  shamming 
slumber. 

Rosny  was  in  any  case  secure  of  a  welcome,  for 
one  of  his  objects  in  visiting  the  palace  was  to  deliver 
over  to  the  King  the  purses,  filled  with  coinage  of 
varying  value,  to  be  distributed  amongst  the  members 
of  the  royal  household  and  that  of  the  Dauphin  as 
New  Year's  gifts. 


104  The  Making  of  a  King 

It  might  have  obviated  some  discontent  at  Saint- 
Germain  had  Madame  de  Mqntglat  and  her  sub- 
ordinates been  aware  that  their  claims  had  not  been 
overlooked.  At  the  chateau  bits  of  blue  ribbon 
were  all  that  the  little  master  had  to  bestow — an 
expedient  invented  because  the  child  had  seemed 
ashamed  to  have  nothing  to*give  to  those  who  begged 
from  him,  as  he  went  from  one  to  the  other  with 
empty  hands  and  saying  in  jest,  though  shamefaced, 
and  giving  each  petitioner  a  little  blow,  c<  Tenez,  here 
is  your  New  Year's  gift." 

At  the  Louvre,  meanwhile,  Rosny  was  exhibiting 
with  pride  the  provision  he  had  made  for  the  King's 
liberalities.  The  device  upon  the  coins  was  a  sprig 
of  laurel,  with  the  motto  Mihi  plebis  amor,  designed 
to  express  the  confidence  felt  by  Henri,  in  spite  of 
conspiracies  and  treason,  in  his  people's  affection. 
Followed  by  his  laden  secretaries,  the  minister  had 
been  readily  admitted  to  the  royal  chamber,  receiving 
an  explanation  from  the  King  of  his  apparent  sloth. 
When  the  Queen  had  awakened  that  morning,  he 
further  informed  him,  it  had  been  with  sighs  and 
tears,  of  which  he  would  tell  his  friend  the  reason 
when  fewer  persons  were  present.  Then,  turning 
to  more  cheerful  subjects,  he  entreated,  with  the 
eagerness  of  a  boy,  to  be  made  acquainted  forthwith 
with  the  contents  of  the  velvet  bags. 

Rosny's  tone  was  somewhat  apologetic  as,  respond- 
ing to  his  master's  demand,  he  prepared  to  produce 
them.  When  last  he  had  seen  the  King  and  Queen 
together  they  had  been  so  marvellously  gay  that, 
in  the  anticipation  that  he  would  find  them  in  a  like 


New  Year's  Day  105 

humour  to-day,  he  had  devised  New  Year's  gifts 
fitted  to  move  them  to  laughter  in  thinking  of  the 
pleasure  of  those  upon  whom  they  were  to  be  bestowed. 
He  had  also  wished  that  both  should  be  present  when 
they  were  displayed. 

If  the  Queen  was  present  she  gave  no  sign  of 
taking  note  of  what  went  on.  Henri,  however, 
observed  that,  though  she  was  pretending  to  be  asleep 
and  had  bestowed  no  greeting  upon  Rosny,  he  was 
sure  she  was  in  truth  awake.  She  was  angry  with 
himself  and  the  minister — for  reasons,  he  repeated, 
Rosny  should  hear  later  on.  Pending  indications  of 
wakefulness,  the  gifts  were  exhibited,  Rosny  laying 
particular  stress  upon  the  gratification  to  be  afforded 
to  the  maids  of  honour  by  the  hundred  crowns  he 
had  allotted  to  each.  The  money  supplied  to  them 
for  dress  had  to  be  used  as  was  intended.  This 
sum,  on  the  other  hand,  might  be  expended,  according 
to  their  fancy,  on  babioles.  Whereupon  the  King 
inquired  flippantly  of  the  grave  minister  whether  he 
would  not  exact  kisses  in  return,  and  Rosny  did  his 
best  to  chime  in  with  Henri's  humour. 

Presently,  having  turned  out  most  of  the  company, 
Henri  gave  the  Queen  a  gentle  push. 

"  Awake,  sleeper,"  he  bade  her.  "  Kiss  me,  and  be 
angry  with  me  no  longer.  For  my  part,  all  my  little 
ill-temper  is  gone."  Did  she  only  know,  he  added, 
how  freely  Rosny  told  him  the  truth,  she  would  not 
charge  the  latter  with  flattery. 

Marie  had  no  alternative  but  to  resign  herself  to 
be  wakened.  A  bad  dream,  she  explained,  con- 
firming a  report  of  language  used  by  the  King,  had 


106  The  Making  of  a  King 

disturbed  her.  He  gave  people  reason  to  believe 
that  he  took  more  pleasure  in  m  the  company  of  others 
than  in  her  own — persons  who  were  disloyal  and  hated 
him  in  their  hearts.  And  she  was  ready  to  hear  what 
Rosny  had  to  say. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  supply  the  names  of  the 
"persons"  to  whom  the*  Queen  made  anonymous 
allusion,  and  Rosny,  between  King  and  Queen,  must 
have  felt  in  a  difficulty.  Called  upon  by  Henri  to 
speak,  and  probably  well  aware  of  the  new  points  at 
issue,  he  hazarded  the  singular  suggestion  that  he 
should  himself  be  empowered  by  both  to  act  on  his 
own  authority  and  without  the  cognisance  of  either. 
If  so,  he  was  confident  that  he  would  be  enabled  to 
make  a  settlement  according  to  their  joint  wishes,  and 
conducive  to  peace  and  concord. 

Henri,  after  his  gay  and  reckless  fashion,  would 
have  freely  given  his  friend  carte-blanche.  The  Queen, 
more  cautious,  and  with  comprehensible  reluctance  to 
pledge  herself  to  unknown  paths,  demanded  time  for 
consideration.  Thus  the  scene  ended,  and  King  and 
Queen  were  left  to  complete  their  tardy  toilettes. 

Though  occasional  storms  were  liable  to  disturb  the 
tranquillity  of  the  royal  household,  amicable  terms  at 
this  time  prevailed.  The  desire  felt  by  Marie  de 
Medicis  to  promote  a  good  understanding  with  the 
house  of  Austria  by  means  of  a  double  marriage 
was,  however,  taking  shape,  and  was  destined  to  prove 
a  fruitful  subject  of  discord.  At  present  the  quarrel 
with  Spain  was  in  abeyance,  whilst — a  more  important 
matter  as  regarded  domestic  peace — the  Marquise  had 
not  yet  regained  the  position  she  had  held  before  she 


Rosny  made  Due  de  Sully  107 

was  implicated  in  the  treasonable  designs  of  the  King's 
enemies. 

The  pressing  necessity  of  the  moment  was  to  take 
measures  to  stamp  out  the  remnants  of  discontent  in 
France.  One  rebel  was  still  unforgiven,  because  un- 
repentant. In  spite  of  Henri's  craving  to  be  at  peace 
with  all,  and  especially  with  his  own  subjects,  the  Due 
de  Bouillon  remained,  protestations  of  loyalty  and 
obedience  notwithstanding,  a  centre  of  disaffection. 
In  the  spring  of  1606  the  King  determined  to  put  an 
end  to  a  state  of  things  which  could  not  be  allowed 
to  continue  without  detriment  to  his  authority,  and  to 
proceed  in  person  to  effect  the  reduction  of  Sedan, 
Bouillon's  place  of  retreat. 

Before  starting  to  bring  his  recalcitrant  vassal  to 
an  attitude  of  submission,  he  bestowed  a  well-earned 
reward  upon  as  faithful  a  servant  as  a  sovereign  ever 
possessed.  Rosny  was  made  duke  and  peer,  the 
formalities  being  completed  on  February  12. 

On  that  day  Sully,  as  he  was  henceforth  to  be  called, 
had  bidden  a  great  company  to  dinner  at  the  Arsenal. 
Returning  thither  with  his  guests,  he  found  yet  another 
awaiting  him.  Henri  had  arrived  to  grace  the  occasion 
with  his  presence,  explaining  that,  though  uninvited, 
he  had  come  to  the  banquet. 

"  Shall  I  dine  badly  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  That  may  well  be,  Sire,"  replied  Sully,  "  since  I 
did  not  anticipate  so  great  an  honour. " 

"Now  I  assure  you  it  will  not  be  the  case,"  answered 
Henri  merrily ;  "  for,  whilst  awaiting  you,  I  have  visited 
your  kitchens,  where  I  saw  the  finest  possible  fish  and 
ragouts  much  to  my  taste.  Even,  since  you  tarried  too 


io8  The  Making  of  a  King 

long  to  please  me,  I  have  eaten  some  of  your  little 
oysters  and  drunk  of  your  wine — the  best  that  ever 
I  drank." 

And  so  the  promotion  of  the  minister  was  gaily 
celebrated. 

On  the  following  day  came  the  discussion  of  grave 
affairs  of  State ;  and  in  'especial  of  the  projected 
expedition  against  Bouillon,  and  the  means  provided 
by  Sully  to  dislodge  him  from  Sedan. 

It  was  March  when  the  arrangements  had  finally 
been  made,  and  the  King  took  his  departure  from 
Paris.  Before  he  did  so  the  Dauphin  was  summoned 
to  the  capital,  for  the  ostensible  purpose  of  returning 
thanks  to  Marguerite  of  Valois  for  the  inheritance 
she  was  to  bequeathe  him.  The  King  may  likewise 
have  desired  to  introduce  his  son  to  the  citizens  of 
Paris.  The  child's  entry  was  publicly  made,  the 
Prince  de  Conde,  the  Constable  of  France,  and  other 
nobles  meeting  him  at  Neuilly  ;  and  on  the  very  day 
of  his  arrival  the  King  in  person  commended  his  heir 
to  the  gentlemen  of  the  robe  as  a  charge  he  left  them 
during  his  approaching  absence. 

At  the  Tuileries  the  Dauphin  had  been  met  by  his 
father  and  taken  to  visit  the  Queen,  who  had  lately 
given  birth  to  her  second  daughter,  Christine  ;  and  on 
the  following  day  his  visit  to  Queen  Margot  was  paid 
in  the  company  of  the  King.  Henri's  departure  had 
been  fixed  for  two  days  later,  and  on  the  eve  of  it 
he  received  the  farewells  of  Messieurs  de  la  Cour, 
again  charging  them  with  the  care  of  his  son.  He 
was  going  to  Sedan,  he  told  them — summing  up  the 
situation — his  arms  open  to  receive  M.  de  Bouillon, 


The  Dauphin  in  Paris  109 

should  such  be  the  Duke's  will.  If  not,  he  went  to 
teach  him  his  duty.  Early  the  next  morning  came 
the  leave-taking  of  father  and  son. 

"  Adieu,  my  son,"  said  the  King  as  he  kissed  the 
boy.  "  Pray  God  for  me.  Adieu,  I  give  you  my 
blessing." 

"  Adieu,  papa,"  replied  the  child,  "  tout  etonne  et 
comme  interdit  de  paroles." 

If  he  was  awed  by  the  unusual  solemnity  of  the 
King's  manner  and  words,  the  impression  will  have 
been  quickly  effaced  during  the  days  passed  amidst 
his  new  surroundings.  Visits  were  to  be  paid,  sights 
to  be  seen.  Taken,  doubtless  by  the  King's  orders,  to 
the  Arsenal,  he  was  led  through  the  galleries  of  arms 
to  the  ramparts,  and  thence  to  the  Bastille,  where, 
standing  in  the  courtyard,  he  was  greeted  from  a  tower 
above  by  the  Comte  d'Auvergne. 

"  Good  evening,  Monsieur,"  cried  the  captive,  "  I 
am  your  very  humble  servant." 

"  God  keep  you,  M.  le  Comte,"  replied  the  child, 
with  natural  courtesy. 

Some  months  later  he  showed  that,  though  he  might 
be  silent  about  it,  he  was  not  unacquainted  with  the 
offence  the  Count  was  expiating  by  his  confinement. 

"  Is  the  Comte  d'Auvergne  still  in  the  Bastille?" 
he  asked,  proceeding  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of  his 
captivity.  It  was  because  he  had  been  very  stub- 
born, some  one  replied,  improving  the  occasion. 

"  It  was  not  that,"  the  Dauphin  answered  briefly. 
Then,  pressed  to  give  the  true  reason,  "  It  is  because 
he  wished  to  make  war  on -papa,"  he  said,  after  con- 
sidering the  matter. 


no  The  Making  of  a  King 

u  But,  Monsieur,"  it  was  objected,  "  he  is  only  one 
man.  How  could  he  make  war  ?  " 

"  With  fifty  thousand  men,*  he  answered  ;  nor 
would  he  say  from  whom  he  had  the  information. 

The  Due  de  Vendome,  now  about  fourteen,  and  the 
King's  constant  companion,  was  to  join  him  ;  and 
the  letter  he  carried  from  the  Dauphin  has  been  pre- 
served. He  had  been  a  great  pleasure  to  his  mother, 
he  informed  the  King,  had  made  war  in  her  room,  and 
had  wakened  the  enemy  there  with  his  drum.  He 
had  visited  the  Arsenal,  and  would  pray  God  for  the 
King.  He  was  very  sleepy,  and  Fef£  Vendome  would 
tell  the  rest.  Two  days  later  his  visit  to  Paris  ended. 

The  King's  campaign  was  short  and  successful.  He 
had  left  Paris  on  March  15.  On  April  4  news 
reached  the  capital  of  the  surrender  of  Sedan  and  the 
submission  of  the  Due  de  Bouillon. 

"  Ma  cousine"  wrote  Henri  to  the  Princess  of  Orange, 
"  I  will  say,  like  Caesar,  Veni,  vidi,  vici ;  or  like  the 
song,  '  Trois  jours  durerent  mes  amours  et  se  finissent 
en  trois  jours,'  so  much  was  I  in  love  with  Sedan." 
The  Princess  would  judge  whether  he  was  better  ac- 
quainted with  the  condition  of  the  stronghold  than 
those  who  had  foretold  that  it  would  take  him  three  years 
to  reduce  it.  M.  de  Bouillon  had  promised  to  serve  him 
well  and  faithfully  for  the  future,  and  he  had  promised- 
he  was  always  ready  to  do  it — to  forget  the  past.  To 
the  Queen,  who  seems  to  have  demurred,  he  charac- 
teristically explained  why  he  could  not  have  acted 
otherwise.  Bouillon  was  in  no  condition  to  resist,  so 
that  every  one  would  understand  that  his  pardon  was 
due  to  clemency  alone. 


Bouillon  reduced  to  Submission          in 

On  April  28  the  King  made  his  triumphant  entry 
into  Paris,  accompanied  by  a  train  of  nobles  and  princes, 
and  bringing  with  him  the  defeated  Bouillon,  ver^y 
plainly  dressed  and  sad  of  countenance. 

One  other  ceremony  remained  to  be  performed, 
when  the  rebel  Duke  was  brought  by  Henri  to  Saint- 
Germain,  to  kiss  the  hand  of  his  heir.  Thus  the  last 
remnant  of  disaffection  was,  if  not  removed,  driven 
underground. 

The  King's  successes  had  been  joyfully  celebrated  by 
the  Dauphin  and  his  household.  Yet  the  visit  paid 
by  Henri  and  the  Duke  was  clouded  for  the  child  by 
one  of  the  fits  of  jealousy  to  which  he  was  subject. 
Angered  by  the  attention  his  father  had  paid  to  the 
Verneuil  children,  he  suddenly  retired  to  his  own  apart- 
ments ;  where,  seating  himself  on  a  coffer,  he  bade  the 
usher  shut  the  door,  and  admit  no  one,  "  for  fear,"  as 
he  explained,  "papa  may  see  me  weep." 

A  melancholy  little  figure,  withdrawn  from  the 
merry-making,  he  had  learnt  that  Henri- Quatre, 
his  own  emotional  character  notwithstanding,  had  no 
liking  for  tears.  In  spite  of  the  strong  affection 
uniting  father  and  son,  there  was  scant  resemblance 
between  the  child  of  Marie  de  Medicis  and  the  gay, 
brilliant,  passionate  Gascon.  Never,  says  Heroard,  was 
child  more  like  father.  One  sees  what  one  desires 
to  see  ;  but  with  some  superficial  similarity  in  tastes 
— a  love  of  outdoor  pursuits  and  of  soldiering — there 
was  little  in  Louis  XIII.  to  recall  the  great  Henri. 
Brown-eyed,  dark-haired,  with  the  heaviness  of  feature 
inherited  from  his  mother's  race,  he  might,  as 
Michelet  observes,  have  been  rather  taken  for  a 


ii2  The  Making  of  a  King 

Spaniard  or  an  Orsini,  a  prince  of  the  Italian  deca- 
dence, his  unlikeness  to  his  father  giving  rise  in 
some  quarters  to  an  urtfoundeH  doubt  whether  he 
was  in  truth  his  son. 

In  childhood  there  was  apparent  in  him  at  times  a 
certain  unsocial  instinct  totally  at  variance  with  Henri's 
habits,  and  foreshadowing  the  moods  of  melancholy  to 
which  he  was  subject  later  on.  One  evening  this 
summer,  when  he  had  been  dancing  for  the  entertain- 
ment of  King  and  Queen,  he  suddenly  climbed  on  to 
his  nurse's  knee,  seemed  to  fall  asleep,  and  was  put  to 
bed.  After  the  company  had  withdrawn,  maman 
Doundoun,  watching  him,  perceived  that  he  was  awake. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  said,  charging  him  with  the  decep- 
tion, "  you  are  not  asleep." 

"  No,"    admitted    the    child,    very    low.     "  Is  papa 

?>  > 
&~~~  . 

"  Yes,  Monsieur.  Why  did  you  pretend  to  be 
asleep  ?  " 

"  Because  papa  would  not  have  gone  away,"  was 
the  reply,  "  and  there  were  so  many  people,  and  I 
was  hot." 

In  that  same  month  of  June  an  event  took  place, 
attended  by  no  serious  consequences  at  the  time,  yet 
not  without  its  effect  upon  the  royal  household.  In 
returning  to  Paris  after  a  visit  to  Saint-Germain,  the 
King  and  Queen  had  a  narrow  escape  from  drowning. 
The  road  was  slippery  ;  at  Neuilly  the  horses  lost  their 
footing,  and  the  royal  coach  and  its  occupants  were 
precipitated  into  the  water. 

The  King  had  been  lying  at  full  length,  asleep;  Cesar 
de  Vend6me,  the  Princesse  de  Conti,  and  others  were 


Li  qderumier'nul.  ttmuy  ne  rom>e 
Ainii  JittelJti  'le  our&eia     I 

Tlc.ktfu.fe. 
7rom  an  engraving  by  Tho  de  Leu,  after  a  painting  by  F.  QuesneL 

HENRIETTE    D'ENTRAGUES. 


Escape  from  Drowning  113 

there,  and  for  a  moment  the  danger  was  not  small. 
The  King  was  seized  by  an  attendant,  who  con- 
trived to  draw  him  out  of  the  water,  Henri  himself 
saved  his  son,  whilst  a  servant  caught  the  Queen  by 
her  headdress,  and,  with  the  King's  help,  placed  her  in 
safety,  the  Princesse  de  Conti  being  the  last  to  reach 
dry  land.  The  most  serious  result  of  the  misadventure 
was  the  use  made  of  it  by  the  Marquise  de  Verneuil, 
who,  under  cover  of  congratulations  upon  the  King's 
escape,  contrived  to  renew  relations  with  him,  and 
drew  him  once  more  into  her  nets.  Secure  in  her 
power,  she  visited  him  in  order  to  express  her  rejoicing, 
and  did  not  fail  to  turn  the  incident  to  good  account 
by  pointing  out  how  deplorable  would  have  been  her 
condition  should  she  and  her  children  have  been  left  by 
his  death  in  the  hands  of  the  Queen.  Eager  to  for- 
give, Henri  fell  into  the  snare,  forgot  his  just  causes 
of  resentment,  again  sought  to  induce  his  wife  to 
admit  the  Marquise  to  Court,  and  the  old  condition 
of  domestic  conflict  was  renewed. 

At  every  point,  in  every  direction,  the  influence  of 
the  clever,  unscrupulous,  quick-witted  Frenchwoman 
was  working  against  the  Queen,  unequipped  by  nature 
to  contend  against  her.  Even  those  upon  whose  sup- 
port Marie  might  have  chiefly  reckoned  were  liable  to 
succumb  to  Madame  de  Verneuil's  wiles.  Amongst 
them  was  a  kinsman  of  her  own,  Don  Giovanni  dc 
Medicis,  illegitimate  brother  of  her  uncle,  the  Grand- 
duke,  whose  presence  in  Paris,  hailed  at  first  with 
satisfaction  by  his  niece,  was  to  prove  in  the  sequel  a 
source  rather  of  trouble  than  of  rejoicing.  On  his 
arrival  in  July  the  Queen  had  been  anxious  to  do 

8 


iH  The  Making  of  a  King 

him  honour  ;  whilst  his  brilliant  record  as  a  soldier— 
although  his  laurels  had  been  wo$  in  the  service  of  Spain 
— commended  him  to  the  King's  favour.  By  both  he 
was  made  cordially  welcome,  an  ample  income  was 
assigned  him ;  and  hopes  were  held  out  of  high  office 
in  France. 

The  position  he  took  up  "at  first  with  regard  to  the 
royal  household  was  a  prudent  one.  Upon  receiving 
some  hazardous  confidence  from  Henri,  he  showed 
with  blunt  straightforwardness,  real  or  assumed,  that 
he  had  penetrated  the  object  with  which  it  was  made, 
and  let  the  King  know  that  he  was  not  disposed  to 
carry  it  out. 

"  If  your  Majesty,"  he  said,  "  tells  me  this  in  order 
that  I  should  repeat  it  to  the  Queen,  you  deceive  your- 
self, as  would  also  be  the  case  should  the  Queen 
command  me  to  give  a  like  message  to  your  Majesty. 
...  I  am  here  to  serve  you.  I  will  do  so  gladly,  and 
will  give  my  life  and  blood  for  your  Majesty,  your 
children,  and  your  State."  As  an  intermediary  he 
declined  to  act. 

Had  Don  Giovanni's  career  at  court  corresponded 
to  this  fair  beginning,  he  might  have  played  a  useful 
part  there.  Unfortunately,  he  was  to  fall  under 
Madame  de  Verneuirs  influence  ;  nor  was  it  long 
before  Marie  demanded  that  he  should  be  recalled 
to  Florence. 

The  day  was  approaching  when  the  ceremonies 
omitted  from  the  private  baptism  of  the  Dauphin, 
ondoye  at  birth,  were  to  be  performed,  and  the  boy 
was  at  length  to  be  given  a  name.  He  would  himself 
have  liked  to  be  called  after  his  father  ;  but  it  had 


The  Dauphin's  Baptism  115 

been  determined  that  he  should  bear  the  name  of  the 
old  Kings  of  France.  The  rite  was  to  have  taken 
place  in  Paris,  and  to  have  been  the  occasion  of  public 
festivities  ;  the  presence  of  the  plague  in  the  capital, 
however,  necessitated  a  change  of  plans,  and  Fon- 
tainebleau  was  selected  as  the  scene  of  the  solemnity. 

Those  in  charge  of  the  Dauphin  at  Saint-Germain 
did  their  best  to  impress  him  with  a  sense  of  the 
importance  of  the  function  in  which  he  was  to  be  the 
central  figure,  and  with  the  necessity  that  he  should 
conduct  himself  with  propriety.  He  must  be  very 
good,  some  one  told  him,  lest  another  Dauphin  instead 
of  himself  should  be  presented  for  baptism.  The 
admonition  roused  him  rather  to  a  spirit  of  revolt 
than  of  submission. 

"  I  should  not  care,"  he  replied  perversely;  "  I  should 
be  very  glad  of  it.  I  should  then  go  where  I  pleased, 
and  no  one  would  follow  me." 

On  September  9  the  journey  to  Fontainebleau  was 
begun,  and  on  the  I4th,  dressed  in  white,  the  Dauphin 
was  presented  at  the  font  by  the  Cardinal  de  Joyeuse, 
representing  Pope  Paul  V.,  and  his  mother's  sister, 
the  Duchess  of  Mantua.  The  ceremony  took  place 
in  the  keep  of  the  castle,  in  the  presence  of  a  multitude 
who  repaired  thither  to  witness  it,  and  who  vied  with 
each  other  in  doing  honour  to  the  occasion  by  the 
magnificence  of  their  apparel.  The  Queen  was  said 
to  have  worn  thirty-two  thousand  pearls  and  three 
thousand  diamonds  ;  and  Bassompierre,  at  the  moment 
possessed  of  no  more  than  seven  hundred  crowns, 
ordered  a  dress  which  was  to  cost  fourteen  thousand, 
ifraying  the  cost  of  it  afterwards  at  the  gaming-table. 


n6  The  Making  of  a  King 

Notwithstanding  his  recalcitrance  beforehand,  the 
boy's  behaviour  left  nothing  to-be  desired,  as  he  made 
the  due  responses  to  the  questions  addressed  to  him. 
His  two  little  sisters,  sharing  in  the  ceremony,  received 
the  names  of  Elizabeth  and  Christine,  and  the  day 
closed  with  a  banquet  and  a  ball. 

The  visit  to  Fontainebleau  passed  off  without  the 
friction  by  which  the  former  one  had  been  marked. 
A  change  had  come  over  the  boy.  If  he  feared  his 
father,  he  also  loved  him  with  a  child's  passionate 
affection,  jealous  of  any  attempt  he  so  much  as  sus- 
pected to  infringe,  in  his  own  interest,  upon  the 
authority  and  pre-eminence  of  the  King.  Tenacious 
of  his  rights  where  others  were  concerned,  he  was 
eager  to  disavow  them  when  they  might  be  supposed 
to  compete  with  those  of  his  father. 

"  He,  that  belongs  to  papa,"  he  protested,  when 
at  a  Twelfth  Night  celebration  the  title  of  King  was 
to  be  given  him  ;  nor  would  he  consent  to  assume 
it  until  the  matter  had  been  duly  explained.  All,  in 
fact,  belonged  to  his  father,  nothing  to  himself. 

"  Mon  wait  re"  asked  little  Verneuil  as  the  two 
were  playing  at  making  card  castles,  "  does  this 
house" — they  were  still  at  Fontainebleau — "belong 

3  » 

to  you  r 

"  No,"  answered  the  child.  "  I  have  none  It 
belongs  to  papa." 

"  I  have  one,  I,"  returned  Verneuil,  bragging. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  the  Dauphin. 

"  Verneuil,"  was  the  reply. 

"  You  are  a  liar,"  retorted  Louis  angrily  ;  "  it  does 
not  belong  to  you,  it  belongs  to  your  maman" 


Louis'  Love  for  his  Father  117 

It  was  always  the  same. 

"  1  have  been  playing  away  all  your  property,  my 
son,"  the  King  told  him  with  a  kiss,  when  he  had  lost 
money  at  the  gaming-table. 

"  Excuse  me,  papa"  he  answered.  "  It  is  not  mine, 
it  is  yours/* 

As  if  oppressed  by  a  presentiment  of  the  tragedy 
by  which  he  was  so  early  to  be  placed  in  possession 
of  his  inheritance,  he  could  not  bear  to  be  told  by 
flatterers  of  the  day  when  he  would  fill  the  King's 
place. 

"  Let  us  not  speak  of  that,"  he  said  shortly,  when 
reminded  of  his  future  sovereignty.  The  King's 
enemies  were  his  enemies ;  and  when  the  Chaplain 
was  instructing  him  upon  the  commandments,  the 
injunction  not  to  kill  gave  him  pause. 

"  Not  Spaniards  ?  "  he  objected.  "  Ho,  ho,  I  shall 
kill  Spaniards,  who  are  papas  enemies.  I  shall  turn 
them  well  into  dust." 

"  Monsieur,"  replied  the  Chaplain  in  rebuke ; 
"Spaniards  must  not  be  killed.  They  are  Christians." 

"But  they  are  papa's  enemies,"  persisted  the  boy. 

"They  are  nevertheless  Christians,"  repeated  the 
priest,  not  improbably  belonging  to  the  Spanish  faction. 
Louis  gave  in. 

"  I  will  then  go  and  kill  Turks,"  he  said  regretfully. 

In  his  estimate  of  Spain,  the  child's  instinct  was 
a  true  one.  Hostility  might  be,  for  the  moment, 
quiescent  ;  it  was  no  more.  From  this  year  1606 
—the  year  marked  by  Henri's  triumph  over  the 
remains  of  open  opposition  in  France — Michelet  dates 
the  development  of  the  plot  he  believes  to  have 


n  8  The  Making  of  a  King 

resulted  in  the  King's  murder.  Whatever  the  truth 
as  to  the  actual  end  may  be,  it  is  undeniable  that  he 
stood  in  a  sense  alone,  a  single  figure  barring  the  way 
to  the  universal  dominion  aimed  at  by  Spain.  And 
upon  the  side  of  his  enemies  were  secretly  ranged 
many  who  should  have  been  his  defenders.  His  foes 
were  too  often  those  of  his  own  household  ;  and  the 
thought  of  their  intrigues  and  of  his  hurrying  doom 
lends  pathos  to  the  side-scenes  of  these  last  years. 


CHAPTER  X 
1607 

Quarrels  between  King  and  Queen — Sully  and  his  enemies — His  rela- 
tions with  Henri — And  with  the  Queen — The  Duke  as  mediator. 

FOR  part  at  least  of  the  dangers  gathering  around 
him  Henri  himself  was  responsible.  From  the 
time  when,  with  eyes  that  must  have  been  opened 
to  the  perfidy  of  the  Marquise,  he  was  recaptured  by 
her,  the  Queen  was  his  enemy.  She  and  her  children 
on  one  side,  a  faithless  husband  and  an  insolent  rival 
on  the  other — such  was  the  position  ;  and  she  can 
scarcely  be  considered  blameworthy  if  she  attempted  to 
meet  intrigue  by  intrigue,  endeavouring  by  every 
means  in  her  power  to  defeat  the  machinations  of  her 
foe,  and  falling  increasingly  under  the  influence  of  the 
Italian  favourites  who  could  be  trusted  to  support 
her  cause. 

In  June  1606  the  accident  had  occurred  which 
furnished  the  opportunity  for  a  renewal  of  intercourse 
between  the  King  and  Madame  de  Verneuil.  A  series 
of  letters  belonging  to  the  October  of  that  year  show 
him  entirely  under  the  old  yoke.  The  prudent  policy 
of  the  Marquise,  who,  playing  a  cautious  game,  was 
again  alleging  conscientious  scruples  as  a  reason  for 
keeping  Henri  at  a  distance,  had  succeeded,  and  her 
>way  over  him  was  once  more  established. 

119 


120  The  Making  of  a  King 

Outwardly  there  may  have  been  little  change  in  the 
aspect  of  the  Court.  The  undercurrents  of  jealousy  and 
hatred,  the  dreams  of  a  possible  vengeance,  were  covered 
by  the  conventional  courtesies  of  common  life  ;  the 
combination  of  jest  and  grim  earnest,  the  heartburnings 
under  the  laughter,  giving  its  distinctive  character 
to  this  period,  when  the0  final  scene  was  already  in 
preparation.  At  times,  indeed,  glimpses  are  to  be 
caught  of  what  seem  like  amicable  relations  between 
King  and  Queen  ;  and  Marie  appears,  in  spite  of  what 
is  sometimes  stated  to  the  contrary,  to  have  been 
strangely  tolerant  of  the  children  brought  up  with  her 
own.  "  Our  daughter,"  wrote  Henri  to  Madame  de 
Verneuil  of  the  three-year-old  Gabrielle,  "  entertained 
my  wife  and  myself  and  all  the  company  for  three 
hours  this  evening,  and  nearly  made  us  die  of  laughing. 
Maitre  Guillaume  "  —his  fool — "  is  nothing  to  her." 

But  Marie's  letters  to  her  uncle  show  the  bitterness 
and  the  indignation  working  within. 

The  special  matters  upon  which  King  and  Queen 
were  at  issue — the  infidelity  of  a  servant  of  Marie's, 
his  imprisonment  at  her  request  by  the  Grand-duke, 
the  efforts  and  counter-efforts  made  for  or  against  him 
—these  are  of  little  interest.  The  attitude,  however, 
of  the  Queen  during  the  following  years  is  of  import- 
ance, considered  in  conjunction  with  the  catastrophe, 
and  the  suspicions  entertained  in  some  quarters  that 
she  connived  at  it. 

Finally  separated  from  his  wife,  so  far,  that  is,  as 
any  remnant  or  possibility  of  genuine  affection  was 
concerned,  with  the  Court  divided  into  parties,  and 
unable  to  count  with  certainty  upon  the  fidelity  of 


Sully  and  the  King  121 

most  of  the  principal  princes  or  nobles,  one  element 
of  good  fortune  remained  to  Henri,  in  the  possession 
of  a  friend  as  uncompromising  in  his  views,  as  strong, 
as  faithful,  and  as  devoted  as  Sully.  In  his  wife's 
animosity  Henri  reaped  the  just  reward  of  his  conduct 
towards  her.  In  the  loyal  affection  of  the  minister 
he  also  received  his  deserts.  For,  failing  in  his  duty 
towards  the  woman  he  had  married,  he  was  worthy, 
as  a  friend,  of  all  love  and  honour. 

If  the  discomfiture  of  Sully's  foes  had  been  com- 
plete, their  hatred  for  the  man  who  had  triumphed 
over  them  was  not  thereby  lessened,  and  his  control 
over  the  King's  expenditure  could  not  fail  to  continue 
an  ever-present  source  of  irritation.  Neither  did  he 
lay  himself  out  either  to  win  popularity  or  to  cause 
what  was  stigmatised  as  niggardliness  to  be  condoned 
by  reason  of  any  graciousness  in  his  manner  of 
practising  it.  Rough  to  discourtesy,  he  disdained  the 
arts  of  conciliation.  Moreover,  the  fact  that,  whilst 
serving  the  King  with  zeal  and  integrity,  he  had  not  been 
neglectful  of  his  personal  interests  or  omitted  to  build 
up  his  private  fortune,  did  not  tend  to  diminish  the 
dislike  felt  for  him. 

Nor  had  his  enemies  lost  hope  of  final  success. 
Again  and  again,  as  they  saw  their  master  roused  to 
anger  by  the  plain  speech  of  the  one  man  who  dared 
to  oppose  his  wishes,  and  to  tell  him  unpalatable  truths, 
fresh  expectations  were  raised  in  the  minds  of  the 
courtiers  surrounding  him  that,  notwithstanding  past 
disappointment,  the  fall  of  the  minister  was  at  hand  ; 
but,  though  impatient  of  Sully's  reprimands,  veiled  in 
the  language  of  a  courtier,  Henri  ever  overcame  his 


122  The  Making  of  a  King 

momentary  resentment,  and  remained  true  to  his  old 
love  and  trust. 

One  scene  out  of  many  may  serve  to  give  a  picture 
of  the  singular  relationship  established  between  the 
two.  On  this  occasion  master  and  servant  had  strongly 
disagreed  on  the  subject  of  some  project  upon  which 
the  King  was  bent ;  and,  Amoved  to  hot  indignation, 
Henri  had  parted  from  his  monitor  in  anger ;  observing, 
as  he  left  the  chamber  where  the  discussion  had  taken 
place,  in  a  voice  plainly  audible  to  the  courtiers  await- 
ing him  outside,  that  he  would  no  longer  bear  with 
the  Duke's  behaviour — that  he  did  nothing  but  con- 
tradict him  and  think  ill  of  all  he  wished  to  do, 
adding  that  he  would  not  see  him  again  for  a 
fortnight. 

The  access  of  passion  on  the  King's  part  was 
eagerly  noted  by  those  whose  hopes  would  have  been 
crowned  had  a  permanent  breach  ensued.  Was  it 
possible  that  at  length  Sully  had  gone  too  far,  and 
that  the  efforts  to  compass  his  ruin,  hitherto  futile, 
were  to  prove  successful  ?  It  is  easy  to  imagine  the 
excitement  produced  at  Court  ;  but  a  surprise  awaited 
the  expectant  courtiers. 

Early  the  next  morning  the  King  had  risen.  By 
seven  o'clock  he  was  again  at  the  Arsenal,  going 
unannounced  to  knock  at  the  door  of  the  Duke's 
own  chamber.  When  it  was  opened  Sully  was  dis- 
covered already  seated  at  a  great  table  covered  with 
papers.  The  King  proceeded  to  make  inquiries  as 
to  his  occupation. 

"  What  were  you  doing  ?  "  he  asked. 

Sully' s  answer  was  ready.     He  had  been  engaged  in 


Sully  and  the  King  123 

writing  letters,  and  making  memoranda  concerning 
matters  connected  with  the  royal  service,  together  with 
an  agenda  of  all  the  business  to  be  transacted  that  day, 
by  himself  or  by  his  secretaries. 

"  Since  when  have  you  been  thus  occupied  ?  "  was 
Henri's  next  question. 

"  Since  three  o'clock  this  morning,"  replied  the 
minister. 

Henri  turned  to  one  of  the  men  by  whom  he  had 
been  accompanied. 

"Well,  Roquelaure,"  he  asked,  "what  would  you 
take  to  lead  a  like  life  ?  " 

Roquelaure  confessed  that  not  the  contents  of  the 
royal  treasury  would  suffice  to  bribe  him,  and  was, 
with  the  rest  of  Henri's  attendants,  dismissed  ;  the 
King  remaining  to  discuss  matters  of  business  with 
the  Duke.  Their  nature  is  unrecorded.  It  is  not 
impossible  that,  hoping  by  kindness  to  win  Sully's 
consent  to  the  projects  he  had  at  heart,  Henri  had 
renewed  the  conversation  which  had  ended  so  ill  upon 
the  preceding  day  ;  for  when  the  minister  replied 
he  observed  coldly  that  his  Majesty  having  examined 
into  the  facts,  made  up  his  mind,  and  his  judgment 
being  superior  to  that  of  any  of  his  subjects,  nothing 
more  remained  to  be  said.  Obedience  must  be  rendered 
his  orders,  together  with  approval  of  all  that  was 
:o  be  done,  without  reply  or  remonstrance,  since  by 

<'  ese  last  the  King  was  displeased. 
The   transparent  humility    and    perfunctory    tribute 
his  superior  wisdom  were  in  no  wise  gratifying  to  a 
an  who  rated  them,  as  no  doubt  Sully  intended  him 
o  do,  at  their  true  value.     Tapping  the  Duke  upon 


***^i 

: 


124  The  Making  of  a  King 

the  cheek,  Henri  displayed  a  thorough  comprehension 
of  the  meaning  of  his  unwonted  subservience. 

"  Oho/'  he  said,  "  you  are  still  angry  at  what  occurred 
yesterday.  Now  I  am  no  longer  angry.  Embrace 
me,  and  treat  me  with  as  much  freedom  as  usual. 
If  you  acted  otherwise,  it  would  be  a  sign  that  you 
had  ceased  to  take  thought  for  my  affairs  ;  and  even 
if  it  makes  me  angry  at  times,  I  desire  that  you  will 
continue,  for  I  do  not  love  you  the  less.  Did  you 
cease  to  contradict  me,  I  should  believe  you  bore  me 
no  more  affection." 

The  master  deserved  the  servant,  the  servant  the 
master,  and,  in  spite  of  what  was  afterwards  alleged  in 
some  quarters,  it  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  Henri 
was  true  to  the  minister  to  the  end.  Sully's  office 
however  was  no  sinecure.  Not  only  was  he  over- 
whelmed with  public  business,  but  in  the  disputes 
becoming  daily  more  embittered  between  the  King  and 
his  wife  he  was  frequently  called  upon  to  act  the 
ungracious  part  of  mediator,  not  without  risk  of  incur- 
ring the  resentment  of  both  belligerents.  Talking  the 
matter  over  at  a  later  date  with  Mezeray,  Sully  told 
him  that  he  had  never  known  a  week  pass  without  a 
quarrel,  and  that  the  Queen's  passion  on  one  occasion 
reached  such  a  height  that,  afraid  that  she  would  strike 
the  King,  he  himself  had  forced  down — with  less 
respect  than  he  could  have  wished — the  hand  she  had 
lifted  ;  adding  that,  though  Marie  had  charged  him 
with  having  given  her  a  blow,  she  had  afterwards 
acknowledged  that  he  had  done  right. 

It  appears  that,  no  less  than  Henri,  she  testified 
a  fitful  desire  to  avail  herself  of  the  Duke's  advice  as 


From  an  engraving  by  W .  Holl. 


24] 


MAXIMILIEN    DE    BETHUNE, 
Due  de  Sully. 


Sully  and  the  Queen  125 

to  her  dealings  with  her  husband  ;  and  that  she  would 
consult  him  upon  the  most  private  questions  is  shown 
by  a  curious  incident  related  by  Richelieu,  who  had 
learnt  it  from  Sully  himself. 

On  this  occasion  she  took  counsel  with  the  Duke 
as  to  whether  it  would  be  well  to  act  upon  a  sugges- 
tion hazarded  by  Concini,  and  inform  Henri  that 
certain  persons  attached  to  the  Court  had  made  love 
to  her.  The  favourite  had  been  present  when  she 
broached  the  subject,  and  so  long  as  he  assisted  at  the 
conference  Sully  declined  to  give  an  opinion.  The 
affair,  he  said  roughly,  was  of  a  nature  so  different  from 
those  of  which  he  had  the  care  that  he  was  incapable 
of  tendering  any  advice  upon  it.  When  the  Italian 
had  withdrawn,  however,  he  adopted  another  tone, 
warning  the  Queen  strongly  against  the  proposed 
step,  as  being  one  calculated  to  rouse  the  King's 
suspicions.  Every  one  knew,  he  told  her  bluntly,  that 
a  man  did  not  make  love  to  a  woman  of  her  rank 
without  having  first  made  sure  that  she  would  not 
dislike  it,  and  unless  she  had  come  half-way  to  meet 
him.  The  King  might  either  imagine  she  had  ac- 
quainted him  with  the  matter  lest  he  should  learn  it 
elsewhere  ;  or  that  she  had  tired  of  the  men  she  accused 
because  others  had  been  found  more  to  her  liking. 
Marie  was  convinced  by  the  Duke's  reasoning  and 
remained  silent. 

Early  in  the  year  1607  the  ^domestic  contest  had 
reached  a  crisis.  The  King,  in  anger,  had  left  the 
palace  without  taking  leave  of  his  wife.  Before  quit- 
ting Paris  for  Chantilly,  he  visited  Sully  at  the  Arsenal, 
told  him  what  had  occurred,  and  presumably  invited 


126  The  Making  of  a  King 

the  intervention  of  the  minister,  as  that  afternoon 
the  Duke  repaired  to  the  Louvre  to  seek  an  interview 
with  the  Queen. 

He  found  her  shut  up  in  her  chamber.  Leonora 
Concini,  who  was  seated  outside  it,  asleep,  her  head 
leaning  on  her  elbow,  informed  the  visitor,  when  he 
roused  her,  that  she  had  been  unable  to  gain  access 
to  her  mistress's  presence.  Sully  was  more  successful. 
Admitted  to  Marie's  apartment,  she  proved  to  be 
engaged  in  inditing  a  letter  to  her  husband,  in 
no  wise  adapted  to  further  the  cause  of  peace.  In 
deference  to  his  remonstrances,  she  consented  that  the 
Duke  should  draw  up  an  epistle  containing  her  senti- 
ments couched  in  less  offensive  language,  to  be  then 
sent  to  the  King  as  her  own.  When  this  had  been 
done  Sully,  with  an  approving  conscience,  withdrew, 
congratulating  himself  upon  the  dispatch  of  a  missive 
with  which  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  find  fault. 

Yet  the  matter  of  it,  whatever  might  be  the  form, 
was  not  calculated  to  commend  itself  to  the  King. 
Well  worded  and  dignified,  it  contained  a  protest 
against  the  King's  subjection  to  a  woman  constituting 
a  danger,  not  only  to  the  Queen  and  to  her  children, 
but  to  the  tranquillity  of  the  State,  which  was  dependent 
upon  the  legitimacy  of  the  royal  children,  called  in 
question  by  the  Marquise  and  her  adherents.  Should 
Marie,  by  no  other  means,  be  enabled  to  induce  the  King 
to  change  his  present  line  of  conduct,  she  warned  him 
of  her  intention,  as  a  last  resource,  of  bringing  his  son 
and  daughters  to  fling  themselves,  with  their  mother, 
at  his  feet  in  the  attempt  to  make  their  supplications 
heard.  Were  Henri  to  listen  to  their  prayer,  the  Queen 


Sully  and  the  Queen  127 

added  a  solemn  undertaking  that  she  would  abandon, 
for  her  part,  any  idea  of  vengeance  ;  would  never 
work,  or  permit  to  be  worked,  any  evil  to  her  rival 
or  her  children,  and  would  endeavour  to  please  the 
King  in  every  respect. 

Such  was  the  letter,  summarised,  sent  to  Henri  at 
Chantilly.  That  Marie's  complaint  should  have  been, 
however  reluctantly,  endorsed  by  Sully  testifies  to  the 
presence  of  a  danger,  if  a  shadowy  one,  still  existing 
with  regard  to  the  rights  of  the  royal  children.  It 
could,  under  these  circumstances,  be  no  matter  of 
surprise  that  the  Queen  should  protest  ;  that  her 
remonstrance  had  been  couched  in  terms  of  respect 
was  something  gained  ;  and  Sully  retired  content  with 
his  afternoon's  work.  It  had  apparently  not  occurred 
to  him  that  the  wording  of  the  communication  would 
be  likely  to  betray,  to  so  acute  an  observer  as  Henri, 
that  it  was  not  the  unassisted  handiwork  of  his  Italian 
wife.  He  was  not  long  left  in  ignorance  of  the  King's 
opinion  of  it. 

"  My  friend,"  wrote  Henri,  "  I  have  received  the 
most  impertinent  letter  possible  from  my  wife.  But 
[  am  less  offended  with  her  than  with  the  man  who 
ictated  it  ;  for  I  see  very  well  that  it  is  not  written 
her  own  style.  Therefore  make  inquiries  and  try 
to  discover  who  is  its  author,  for  never  again  will  I  see 
him  or  love  him." 

On  the  receipt  of  this  missive  the  Duke,  as  he 
himself  observes,  was  a  little  startled  and  troubled. 
When  the  King  returned  to  Paris  he  lost  no  time  in 
visiting  the  Arsenal,  demanding  whether  Sully  had 
et  gained  the  information  he  desired. 


: 


128  The  Making  of  a  King 

"  I  have  no  certainty  on  the  subject  as  yet,"  returned 
the  minister.  "  In  two  days,  .however,  I  hope  to  give 
you  a  good  account  of  it,  and,  did  I  know  what  were 
the  contents  of  the  letter,  and  your  cause  of  offence,  I 
should  do  so  the  sooner." 

In  reply  Henri  admitted  that  the  letter  was  well 
written,  full  of  good  sen§e,  humility,  and  submission, 
"  mais  qui  me  mord  en  riant,  et  me  pique  en  me 
flattant."  Taking  it  piece  by  piece,  he  could  find 
nothing  to  object  to  ;  but  as  a  whole  it  angered  him. 
It  had,  he  was  sure,  been  written  maliciously  and  with 
the  intention  of  causing  him  annoyance.  Had  his  wife 
taken  counsel  with  Sully  himself,  or  another  of  his 
faithful  servants,  he  would  have  been  less  offended. 
It  would  at  all  events  have  been  done — as  Sully  had 
cautiously  suggested — with  a  good  intention. 

Thus  encouraged,  the  Duke  made  frank  confession. 
He  was  the  culprit  by  whom  the  letter  had  been  com- 
posed, lest  worse  should  have  befallen.  A  prudent 
man,  he  had  retained  in  his  possession  the  original 
draft,  and  it  was  found,  on  comparing  it  with  that 
received  by  the  King,  that  Marie  de  Medicis,  in 
copying  it,  had  made  certain  alterations,  rendering  it 
less  conciliatory  and  more  calculated  to  produce  irrita- 
tion on  the  King's  part.  Henri  had  no  desire  to 
quarrel  with  Sully,  and  allowed  himself  to  be  pacified. 

Sully  was  not  to  escape  altogether  the  consequences 
of  the  incident.  Since  he  was  on  the  excellent  terms 
it  represented  with  the  Queen,  Henri  desired  to  make 
further  use  of  his  services.  He  had  been  informed 
that  on  two  occasions,  when  he  himself  had  been  absent 
on  a  hunting  expedition,  Marie  had  secretly  visited  the 


Sully  as  Mediator  129 

Arsenal,  had  been  shut  up  for  more  than  an  hour  at  a 
time  with  the  minister  in  his  wife's  private  apartment, 
issuing  from  the  interview  flushed  and  tearful,  but  in  a 
manifestly  friendly  mood.  As  to  the  channel  through 
which  these  facts  had  been  made  known  to  him — in 
case  Sully  might  be  inclined  to  dispute  them — the 
King  named  as  his  informant  the  Duke's  own  daughter, 
the  young  Duchesse  de  Rohan,  who  had  thought  to 
gratify  the  King  thereby.  Sully  was  on  no  account  to 
let  the  Duchess  know  that  Henri  had  spoken  of  the 
affair,  "  for  I  should  then  no  longer  take  the  great 
pleasure  I  do  in  coming  here,  and  she  would  tell  me 
nothing  more,  did  she  know  that  I  should  repeat  it  to 
you.  For  I  laugh  and  play  with  her  as  a  child — 
though  I  do  not  find  her  like  a  child  in  intelligence, 
since  she  sometimes  gives  me  very  good  advice,  and 
is,  besides,  to  be  trusted  to  keep  counsel ;  for  I  have 
confided  several  things  to  her,  of  which  I  have  noticed 
that  she  has  made  no  mention  to  you  or  to  others." 

What  Sully  thought  of  his  domestic  reporter  is  not 
recorded,  any  more  than  whether  he  yielded  obedience 
to  the  King  in  concealing  from  the  young  Duchess  his 
cognisance  of  her  having  acted  in  that  capacity.  He 
may,  however,  have  regretted  her  communications  ; 
since  upon  the  strength  of  them  he  was  now  directed 
by  Henri  to  use  the  influence  he  had  acquired  in  the 
interests  of  peace. 

In  order  to  pave  the  way  for  a  reconciliation  with 
e  Queen,  Sully  was  first  to  approach  Madame  de 
Verneuil,  in  no  wise  as  the  King's  representative  or 
envoy,  but  as  if  acting  on  his  own  initiative,  and  to  warn 
er — in  the  character  of  an  anxious  friend — that,  did 

9 


130  The  Making  of  a  King 

she  not  amend  her  ways,  she  was  incurring  the  risk  of 
forfeiting  the  King's  favour,  in. which  case  he  had  reason 
to  know  that  she  would  be  deprived  of  her  children  and 
immured  in  a  cloister.  He  was  further  to  recount 
the  principal  delinquencies  with  which  she  stood 
charged — namely,  that  she  spoke  of  the  King  himself 
with  contempt,  sought  the*countenance  and  support  of 
the  house  of  Lorraine,  and  maintained  a  friendly  inter- 
course with  the  traitors,  her  father  and  her  brother,  in 
spite  of  orders  from  the  King  to  the  contrary.  Above 
all,  she  alluded  to  the  Queen  in  improper  terms,  placed 
her  son  and  daughter  on  a  footing  of  equality  with  the 
royal  children,  and  continued  to  allege,  as  her  justifica- 
tion, the  old  promise  of  marriage  declared  null  and 
void  by  the  Parlement.  These  just  causes  of  indigna- 
tion to  the  Queen,  giving  rise  as  they  did  to  constant 
quarrels,  would  no  longer  be  tolerated  by  the  King, 
and  would  drive  him  to  transfer  his  affections  elsewhere. 
A  promise  of  amendment  having  been  obtained  from 
the  Marquise,  Sully  was  to  proceed  to  the  second 
portion  of  his  task.  Once  again  as  of  his  own 
accord,  he  was  to  repair  to  the  Queen,  armed  with 
her  rival's  submission  ;  to  show  her  that  conformity 
to  the  King's  will  was  the  best  means  of  securing 
satisfaction  to  herself;  in  especial  to  represent  the 
extreme  objections  entertained  by  her  husband  to 
the  absolute  domination  exercised  over  her  by  the 
Concini — so  embittering  to  the  King's  spirit  that  his 
other  causes  of  complaint  against  her  were  thereby 
magnified ;  and  to  endeavour,  by  all  the  means  in  his 
power,  to  induce  her  to  dismiss  her  Italian  favourites. 
Should  Sully  succeed  in  this  double  enterprise,  and 


Sully  as  Mediator  131 

gain  the  victory  over  the  two  women,  Henri  protested 
that  he  would  attach  a  greater  value  to  the  service 
than  if  he  had  captured,  with  all  his  cannon,  the  town 
and  castle  of  Milan. 

The  unfortunate  minister  may  well  have  felt  that 
the  last  would  have  been  the  easier  feat.  Making 
fitting  acknowledgment  of  the  honour  conferred  by 
the  tokens  of  his  master's  trust  and  confidence,  he 
added  that,  should  success  attend  his  efforts,  it  would  be 
by  the  favour  of  Heaven,  rather  than  owing  to  his  own 
wisdom  and  efforts ;  adding  that,  in  his  opinion,  a  simpler 
method  would  be  best — that  the  exercise  of  the  royal 
authority — nje  le  'Deux  from  the  King's  own  lips — would 
be  a  more  certain  means  of  obtaining  what  he  desired. 
That  means  Henri  could  not  be  persuaded  to  take,  and 
in  the  end  little  amelioration  was  effected  in  the 
condition  of  affairs. 


CHAPTER   XI 

• 

1608 

Henri's  affection  for  his  children — The  Dauphin's  training — Birth  of 
the  Due  d'Orleans — Marie  de  Medicis'  complaints — Sully  at  Fon- 
tainebleau — The  Turkish  Ambassador  and  the  Dauphin— Madame's 
rebuke. 

WHEN  the  Queen,  in  the  letter  which  had  given 
her  husband  so  much  offence,  had  dwelt  upon 
the  endangered  condition  of  her  "poor  children," 
adding  the  menace  that,  in  case  of  necessity,  they 
should  be  brought  to  add  their  entreaties  to  her  own, 
and  should  seek,  at  their  father's  feet,  the  justice 
denied  to  herself,  she  displayed  a  comprehension  of  the 
arguments  most  likely  to  appeal  to  the  man  she 
addressed.  If  there  were  lucid  intervals  when  Henri 
became  dimly  aware  that  Marie  de  Medicis  had  reason 
and  right  upon  her  side,  his  apprehension  of  her 
grievances  had  the  coldness  of  an  unloving  husband. 
In  the  case  of  his  children  it  was  a  different  matter, 
and  it  was  by  pleading  in  their  name  that  her  best  hope 
of  success  lay.  The  one  meeting-point  of  husband 
and  wife  was  supplied  by  the  royal  nursery.  In  the 
presence  of  the  little  group  who  inhabited  it,  it  almost 
seemed  that  a  truce  was  proclaimed,  and  a  more  har- 
monious atmosphere  replaced  the  discordant  and 
disintegrating  elements  at  work  elsewhere.  Quick- 

132 


From  an  engraving,  after  the  painting  by  Van  Dyck. 

HENRI    IV.    AND    HIS    FAMILY. 

32] 


Nursery  Discipline  133 

witted  as  the  Dauphin  was,  there  was  no  sign  that  he 
had  been  allowed  to  discover  that  his  father  and 
mother  were  not  at  one,  and  the  child  loved  them  both. 
If  the  King's  figure  naturally  loomed  largest  in  his 
eyes,  he  was  also  manifestly  fond  of  his  mother.  Both 
were  his  <c  good  friends."  "  May  God/'  he  prayed, 
"  give  good  life  to  my  father,  my  good  friend,  and 
to  my  mother,  my  good  friend."  Would  maman,  he 
asked,  not  write  to  him  ?  "  Papa  has  told  me,"  he 
added,  "  that  she  makes  a  multitude  of  blots  ;  but, 
were  she  to  write  to  me,  I  would  take  good  care  of  the 
letter,  blotted  though  it  might  be." 

The  boy  was  in  his  sixth  year,  and  growing  to  be 
of  an  age  when  the  training  he  received  was  of 
increasing  importance.  To  bring  up  a  child  well 
whose  sense  of  his  importance  was  necessarily  brought 
home  to  him  daily  would,  in  any  case,  have  been  no 
easy  task  and  in  Madame  de  Montglat  an  unfortunate 
choice  of  a  gouvernante  had  been  made.  Incapable  of 
inspiring  respect,  she  relied  upon  the  use  of  the  rod 
to  enforce  discipline. 

In  this  it  must  be  admitted  that  she  and  the  King 
were  in  full  accord.  "  I  must  complain  of  you," 
he  once  wrote — most  unjustly,  as  Heroard's  journal 
proves — "  that  I  have  not  heard  from  you  that 
you  have  whipped  my  son.  For  it  is  my  will,  and  I 
command  that  he  shall  be  whipped  every  time  that  he 
is  stubborn  or  in  any  way  ill-behaved  ;  being  well 
aware  personally  that  nothing  in  the  world  is  so 
profitable,  as  I  know  by  experience,  for  at  his  age  I  was 

ich  whipped.     Therefore,  I  desire  you,  to  do  it,  and 

make  him  understand." 


134  The  Making  of  a  King 

The  admonition  was  unnecessary.  The  poor  little 
Dauphin  was  "  made  to  Understand "  thoroughly 
well,  the  treatment  he  received  at  the  hand  of  the 
gouvernante  presenting  a  striking  contrast  to  the  de- 
ference shown  by  those  who  came  to  pay  their  respects 

to  the  heir  to  the  throne. 

• 

Whilst  Queen  and  King  were  quarrelling  at  Paris, 
the  children  were  staying  at  Fontainebleau,  where  on 
March  I  the  boy,  in  an  edifying  mood,  announced 
his  intention  of  retiring  into  a  corner  to  say  his 
Paternoster  whensoever  he  should  be  inclined  to  be 
wilful,  so  that  the  wicked  angel  might  be  put  to  flight. 
It  had  been  a  fleeting  fit  of  virtue.  On  the  very 
next  morning  Heroard,  entering  his  charge's  bed- 
chamber, found  him  undergoing  corporal  punishment 
at  the  hands  of  Madame  de  Montglat,  "  who  was 
in  a  passion  with  him,"  said  the  doctor,  adding 
significantly,  "  and  sorry  that  I  had  found  the  door 
open."  A  few  hours  later  all  had  been  rearranged 
with  a  view  to  effect,  and  the  delinquent,  as  if  he 
had  never  been  acquainted  with  the  whip,  was 
receiving,  in  royal  fashion,  an  envoy  from  the  Elector 
Palatine,  who  was  the  bearer  of  a  letter  from  his 
master  containing  his  proffers  of  service  and  expressing 
the  hope  that  the  writer  might  merit  the  honour  of  the 
Dauphin's  favour. 

By  the  end  of  March  peace  had  outwardly  been 
restored  to  the  royal  household,  and  King  and  Queen 
had  returned  to  Fontainebleau,  where  Easter  was  to  be 
kept  by  a  gay  company  and  the  birth  of  yet  another 
child  was  expected. 

Of  Easter  observances  not  the  least  important  was 


Birth  of  the  Due  d'Orteans  135 

the  customary  ceremony  of  Maundy  Thursday,  when 
the  King  in  person  was  wont  to  wash  the  feet  of 
thirteen  poor  men.  On  this  occasion,  incapacitated  by 
sickness — it  has  been  observed  that  this  was  curiously 
often  the  case — Henri  desired  that  his  son  should 
represent  him;  but  a  serious  difficulty  occurred.  Con- 
ceiving a  pronounced  dislike  for  the  task,  Louis  at 
first  replied  by  a  flat  refusal  ;  although,  when  his  father 
personally  explained  his  wishes,  he  was  induced  to 
promise  unwillingly  to  carry  them  out.  Moreover, 
when  the  moment  arrived  for  his  obedience  to  be  put 
to  the  proof,  repulsion  again  gained  the  day.  Con- 
ducted to  the  ballroom,  which  was  to  be  the  scene  of 
the  function,  attended  by  the  Princes  of  the  Blood, 
and  compelled  to  ascend  the  platform  where  the 
expectant  poor  were  seated,  his  indignation  was  further 
roused  when  he  became  aware  that  his  own  basin 
had  been  brought  into  requisition  ;  and,  drawing  back, 
with  tears,  he  obstinately  refused  to  perform  the 
office  required  of  him,  the  chaplain  being  ultimately 
forced  to  take  it  upon  himself.  It  may  be  that 
Henri  was  not  without  a  certain  sympathy  for  his 
son's  recalcitrance,  for  no  mention  is  made  of  the  use 
of  the  rod  on  this  occasion.  The  Dauphin,  for 
his  part,  when  asked  why  he  had  objected  to  do  what 
was  done  by  the  King  himself,  replied  by  pointing  out 
composedly  that  he  was  not  King,  and  leaving  it  to 
be  inferred  that  duties  should  be  accompanied  by 
compensations. 

On  Easter  Monday,  April  16,  the  King's  second  son 
was    born — a    little    figure    who,     notwithstanding    a 
loroscope  predicting  for  him  a  great  future,  did  no 


136  The  Making  of  a  King 

more  than  pass  across  the  stage,  disappearing  from  it 
before  the  completion  of  his  fifth  year.  "  The  King," 
wrote  the  court  poet,  Malherbe,  "  was  extraordinarily 
rejoiced  at  the  birth,  the  more  so,  perhaps,  by  reason  of 
the  child's  extreme  likeness  to  himself." 

It  had  been  at  first  Henri's  intention  that  the  infant 
should  bear  the  simple  title  of  Monsieur,  belonging  to 
the  brother  next  in  age  to  the  Dauphin  ;  a  certain 
income  being  assigned  to  him,  to  be  increased  should 
he  serve  his  brother  loyally.  But  the  people,  by 
common  consent,  had  decided  otherwise,  and  the  name 
of  Due  d'Orl£ans  was  so  promptly  and  generally 
bestowed  upon  the  new-comer  that  the  King  bowed  to 
the  popular  will,  and  endorsed  it  by  conferring  the 
title  upon  him. 

Princes  of  the  Blood,  princesses  and  nobles,  had 
gathered  together  as  usual  for  the  event,  or  visited 
the  palace  in  order  to  pay  their  respects  to  the  new- 
born infant ;  and  a  curious  light,  in  the  form  of  a 
luminous  bird,  observed  by  the  soldiers  on  guard  at 
night,  was  accepted  by  Henri  as  a  good  omen  for 
the  enterprises  he  had  in  view.  He  had  often,  he 
said,  noticed  similar  phenomena  on  the  eve  of  battles 
and  sieges,  and  they  had  ever  been  the  heralds  of 
good  fortune. 

Outwardly  all  seemed  to  promise  well  for  the 
prosperity  of  the  royal  house.  But  Marie  de  Medicis 
was  brooding  over  her  wrongs,  and  casting  about  for  a 
means  of  safe-guarding  herself  and  her  four  children 
from  their  foes. 

Her  correspondence  with  the  Grand-duke  shows 
that,  even  at  this  moment,  the  King  had  brought 


Marie  and  her  Wrongs  137 

pressure  upon  her  to  send  a  request  to  her  uncle  that 
he  would  release  the  man  who,  as  her  enemy,  he  still 
detained  in  captivity.  In  appearance  Marie  yielded  ; 
the  letter  dictated  by  her  husband  was  written.  But 
in  anticipation  of  a  like  occasion,  when  she  might 
not  be  acting  as  a  free  agent,  Marie  had  taken  her 
measures  beforehand.  A  second  letter,  early  in  June, 
explained  that  the  first  had  been  sent  by  constraint,  and 
expressed  her  hope  that  by  the  absence  of  a  private 
countersign  agreed  upon  between  uncle  and  niece  the 
Grand-duke  would  have  understood  that  the  demand 
it  contained  did  not  proceed  from  her.  She  also  gave 
vent  to  her  dissatisfaction  with  Don  Giovanni  ;  who, 
as  her  kinsman,  should  have  contributed  to  her  peace 
of  mind,  and  had  on  the  contrary  worked  her  more 
ill  than  all  her  enemies. 

"  I  have  no  other  passion,  no  other  care,"  she  added, 
"  than  is  concerned  with  the  Marquise,  and  whoever 
declares  himself  on  her  side  declares  himself  my  enemy. 
Where  I  can,  at  any  hour  and  at  any  time,  I  will 
severely  avenge  myself.  Let  your  Highness  come, 
in  any  way  possible,  to  my  assistance.  Consider  that 
to  none  other  but  yourself  can  I  have  recourse.  With 
tears  in  my  eyes  I  commend  myself  to  you  in  all  my 
present  sorrows.  ..."  And  a  trembling  postscript 
tells  that  the  letter  was  written  at  three  different  times 
and  in  secret,  in  consequence  of  the  King's  prohibition. 

Such  was  the  bitter  complaint  of  the  mother  of 
Henri's  four  children,  and  the  condition  to  which 
she  had  been  reduced  by  a  man  as  kind-hearted  and 
as  reluctant  to  give  pain  as  Henri. 

Whilst    courtiers    regarded    the    state   of  the   royal 


138  The  Making  of  a  King 

household  with  curiosity  or  indifference,  Sully,  visiting 
Fontainebleau  the  day  after  the  Due  d'Orleans'  birth, 
must  have  looked  at  the  matter  with  sadder  eyes, 
despairing  of  the  restoration  of  the  domestic  peace 
he  had  laboured  to  promote. 

He  appears,  during  his  visit,  to  have  made  an 
attempt  to  propitiate  the  £ood  opinion  of  his  master's 
son.  Again  there  is  visible  in  the  child's  demeanour 
the  reflection  of  the  animosity  felt  for  the  minister 
by  those  around  him. 

"  Do  you  want  anything  ? "  the  Duke  inquired 
kindly.  "Ask  me  for  it." 

The  boy  must  have  known  well  that  there  were 
those  at  hand  ready,  on  so  fair  an  opportunity,  to 
prompt  him  with  petitions.  Yet,  after  a  moment,  he 
replied  in  the  negative. 

"  Nothing,"  he  said,  in  cold  response  to  the 
friendly  invitation. 

"  I  have  asked  him  so  often,"  he  said  afterwards, 
when  chidden  by  maman  Doundoun,  his  nurse,  for  not 
having  proffered  some  request  on  her  behalf,  <c  and 
he  does  nothing." 

It  was  probably  an  excuse.  Louis  had  a  dis- 
taste, often  apparent,  for  making  demands  or  asking 
favours  ;  and  when  induced,  a  day  or  two  later,  to 
beg  that  the  nurse's  desire  should  be  gratified,  it  was 
only  by  constraint.  Listening  to  Madame  de  Mont- 
glat's  solicitations  on  behalf  of  others  of  his  household, 
his  indifference  was  manifested  so  plainly  that  the 
Duke  noticed  it. 

"  Monsieur  cares  nothing  about  it,"  he  said,  ob- 
serving him. 


Louis  and  the  Turks  139 

"  Si  fait/*  said  Louis,  waking  up  to  the  conscious- 
ness that  he  was  damaging  the  chances  of  his  servants  ; 
but  Sully  had  noted  his  attitude,  and  was  at  no  loss 
to  explain  his  ungraciousness. 

More  especially  under  present  circumstances  it  was 
the  Queen's  policy  to  cause  her  son  to  take  his  place 
publicly  as  heir  to  the  throne,  and  before  the  party 
at  Fontainebleau  dispersed  and  the  children  returned 
to  Saint-Germain  the  Dauphin  received  in  audience 
the  Turkish  Ambassador,  treating  his  guest  with  distant 
courtesy,  and  accepting  the  gifts  he  brought  with 
coldness.  Saying  by  his  interpreter  that  the  poor, 
unable  to  make  great  gifts,  offered  their  affection,  the 
envoy  kissed  the  child's  hand,  praying  that  he  might 
preserve  the  amity  existing  between  his  father  and 
Turkey.  The  conversation  that  evening  was  not 
adapted  to  pave  the  way  for  the  fulfilment  of  these 
hopes. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  his  doctor,  "  you  must  one  day 
go  to  Constantinople  with  five  hundred  thousand 
men." 

cYes,"  answered  the  Dauphin  with  alacrity,  "I 
will  kill  all  the  Turks,  and  this  one  as  well." 

Heroard  demurred.  Having  taken  the  trouble  to 
visit  him  and  bring  him  gifts,  the  Ambassador,  in  his 
opinion,  should  be  spared  in  the  general  slaughter. 
The  boy  was  unconvinced. 

"  The  Turks  do  not  believe  in  God,"  he  asserted 
doggedly  ;  and,  though  it  was  explained  to  him  that 
this  was  too  sweeping  a  statement,  he  refused  to 
relent. 

"I  will  kill   them  all,"  he  reiterated;  "but  I  will 


140  The  Making  of  a  King 

have  Mass  said  before  this  one,  and  will  have  him 
afterwards  baptized." 

Another  guest  at  Fontainebleau  was  Guise,  whose 
visit  was  the  occasion  of  an  object-lesson  on  the 
danger  of  speaking  too  freely  before  a  child  who 
listened  to  all  that  went^  on  around  him.  Finding 
the  Dauphin  playing  with  a  toy  monkey,  the  King 
had  unwisely  hazarded  the  remark  that  it  bore  a 
resemblance  to  the  Due  de  Guise.  Shortly  after  Guise 
himself,  paying  his  respects  to  his  master's  son,  made 
some  inquiry  as  to  the  puppet. 

"  It  is  your  likeness,"  answered  Louis,  whether  in 
malice  or  innocence. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ? "  asked  the  Duke. 

"  Papa  said  so,"  was  the  conclusive  reply. 

His  ideas  upon  religion  were  clear,  and  he  had 
been  instructed  with  care,  showing  a  keen  interest  in 
what  he  was  taught.  He  would  point  out  in  chapel 
the  prayers  he  wished  his  little  sister  to  say,  and 
listened  eagerly  to  Bible  stories. 

"  I  will  learn  them  and  relate  them  to  papa"  he  said 
proudly.  "  My  sister  will  tell  stories  of  the  wasp  who 
stung  the  goat,  which  are  not  true  ;  but  I  shall  tell 
those  which  are  true/' 

On  the  other  hand,  a  writer  who  appears  to  have 
owed  a  grudge  to  the  future  Louis  XIII.  cites  in- 
stances of  perversity.  The  child  would  waken  in 
the  morning  refusing  to  say  his  prayers,  or  would 
threaten  that  he  would  leave  Saint-Germain  and  go 
to  Paris  should  his  devotional  exercises  be  unduly 
prolonged,  adding  airily  that  he  told  God  all  he  ought 
when  he  went  to  sleep.  Scenes  of  a  disorderly  character 


. 


Madame's  Rebuke 

also  took  place  in  the  chapel,  if  affairs  were  not 
conducted  there  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  infant  despot. 
Accustomed  to  bear  rule  in  the  nursery,  it  was  difficult 
for  him  to  assume  a  subordinate  position  elsewhere. 
It  was  true  that  occasions  occurred  when  he  received 
rebuffs  in  unexpected  quarters. 

"/#/  Monsieur,"  said  his  little  sister,  Madame, 
not  yet  five  years  old,  one  day  when,  at  dinner, 
her  brother  had  given  way  to  an  ebullition  of  ill- 
temper,  "  you  should  not  act  thus.  You  would  not 
so  much  as  be  known  to  be  the  son  of  the  King. 
One  must  not  take  fancies  ;  one  must  not  give  way 
to  tempers,  Monsieur.  Mamanga  will  whip  you." 

Accustomed  to  assume  a  tone  of  masculine  superi- 
ority in  his  intercourse  with  his  sister,  the  Dauphin, 
cowed  by  this  unexpected  attack,  remained  speechless. 
Madame  completed  her  admonitions. 

"  One  does  not  speak  thus  to  gouvern  antes"  she  said 
in  conclusion.  "  It  is  not  pretty,  Monsieur." 

Whether  the  Dauphin  was  benefited  by  his  sister's 
spirited  protest  does  not  appear.     It  was  seldom  in- 
deed that  any  of  his  companions  ventured  to  lift  their 
oices  in  remonstrance. 

In  July  the  nursery  was  thrown  into  temporary 
mourning  by  the  death  of  Madame  de  Montglat's 
husband.  After  the  fashion  of  children,  Louis  caught 

e   contagion   of  tears,  and  wept  abundantly.     After 

e  fashion  of  children,  he  also  wearied  of  the  sight 
of  grief.     Asking  on  the  following  day  to  be  taken  to 
visit  Mamanga^  relieved  for  the  moment  from  her  duties, 
e  added  a  desire  that  she  should  not  weep,  repeating 

is  wish  to  her  in  person  when  the  meeting  took  place. 


i42  The  Making  of  a  King 

"  Good-night,  Mamanga"  he  said.  "  I  wish  you 
not  to  cry.  Laugh." 

The  King,  who  retained  his  misplaced  confidence  in 
the  gouvernante,  wrote  her  a  kindly  letter  of  condolence, 
proceeding  to  enumerate  "in  a  lighter  tone  the  con- 
solations remaining  to  her  : 

"  Believe  that,  if  God  has  deprived  you  of  one  good 
husband,  He  has  given  you,  at  the  same  time,  another, 
and  has  also  left  you  a  good  King  and  a  good  master 
who  will  take  care  of  you.  "  My  son  will  be  hence- 
forth your  husband,  and  I  your  good  King  and  master, 
and  will  show  how  much  to  my  taste  your  services 
have  been,  and  still  are.  I  have  commanded  in  especial 
the  Sieur  de  la  Chesnaye,  who  takes  you  this  letter, 
and  whom  I  have  expressly  sent  to  visit  you,  to 
assure  you  of  this,  and  to  say  that  the  affection  you 
have  hitherto  shown  for  my  son,  and  the  care  you 
have  taken  of  him  and  of  my  other  children,  causes 
me  to  forbid  you  to  go  into  retreat  for  the 
quarantaine,  which  is  to  give  yourself  up  to  weeping 
and  mourning,  since  the  care  of  my  children  rests  upon 
you,  and  will  serve  you  as  an  excuse  and  as  consolation 
in  your  just  grief." 

The  autumn  of  this  year  was  passed  at  Noisy,  owing 
to  the  appearance  of  the  plague  at  Saint-Germain. 
At  the  chateau,  as  soon  as  it  was  considered  safe  to 
return  thither,  the  Verneuil  brother  and  sister  were 
christened,  the  names  chosen  for  them  being,  strangely 
enough,  Henri  and  Gabrielle — the  King's  own  name 
and  that  of  the  woman  whose  place  their  mother 
filled  in  his  affections.  When  the  matter  first  came 
to  the  Dauphin's  ears  he  had  uttered  a  vehement 


Baptism  of  the  Verneuil  Children         143 

protest  with  regard  to  the  honour  done  to  his  half- 
brother. 

"  I  will  not  have  it  !  "  he  cried.  "  1  will  not  call 
him  Henri.  He  will  have  more  than  I.  I  am  called 
Louis." 

With  difficulty  he  was  pacified.  H£roard,  however, 
took  an  opportunity  to  recount  the  story  of  St.  Louis, 
now  a  saint  in  heaven,  and  who  had  borne  his  name 
on  earth.  The  child's  objections  were  overcome,  and 
he  and  little  Madame  stood  sponsors  for  the  children 
of  the  Marquise. 


CHAPTER  XII 
1608 

Marriage  projects — The  Chevalier  Guidi  at  Court — Difficulties  with  the 
Queen — The  Dauphin's  fear  of  parsimony — Betrothal  of  the  Due 
de  Vendome— Don  Pedro  de  Toledo's  mission. 

DURING  the  year  1608  Henri  was  much  engaged 
in  arranging  marriages  for  his  children.  Whether 
or  not  his  anxiety  in  the  matter  resulted  from  a  con- 
viction of  the  insecurity  of  his  own  tenure  on  life, 
he  appears  to  have  been  eager  to  provide  without 
delay  for  those  whom  his  death  would  leave  without 
a  protector.  Who,  their  father  removed,  would  care 
for  the  fortunes  of  Gabrielle's  children,  or  what  would 
befall  the  son  and  daughter  of  the  Marquise  ? 

The  more  important  political  question  of  the 
marriages  of  his  legitimate  children  had  also  to  be 
dealt  with  ;  and  in  the  course  of  the  summer  the 
Spanish  project,  hitherto  scarcely  more  practical  than 
that  which  assigned  the  King's  eldest  daughter  to  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  was  to  become  a  serious  possibility. 
At  present  little  Madame  had  been  taught  to  speak 
of  England  as  her  future  home,  her  brother  kindly 
holding  out  hopes  that  he  would  visit  her  there, 
although  dissenting  emphatically  from  the  suggestion 

that  he  might  sometimes  cross  the  Channel  in  secret. 

144 


The  Spanish  Marriage  Question         145 

Papay  Louis  objected,  would  in  that  case  whip  him 
when  he  came  back.  Nothing  must  be  done  without 
the  King's  permission. 

The  infant  Due  d'Orleans  was  already  betrothed, 
his  promised  bride  being  Mademoiselle  de  Mont- 
pensier,  one  of  the  wealthiest  heiresses  of  France, 
who  eventually  became  the  wife  of  Henri's  third 
son,  and  was  the  mother  of  La  Grande  Made- 
moiselle. The  engagement  of  the  Duke  was  made 
use  of  by  the  Dauphin's  attendants  to  raise  the  question 
of  his  own  marriage,  and  to  renew  their  efforts  to 
excite  his  interest  in  the  Infanta.  Would  he  not, 
some  one  inquired,  like  to  be  married  as  well  as  his 
younger  brother  ?  The  Infanta,  he  was  further  in- 
formed, had  his  portrait  in  her  possession.  A  Breton 
gentleman  who  paid  a  visit  to  Saint-Germain  on  his 
way  home  from  Spain  had  wonderful  tales  to  recount 
both  of  the  Princess's  beauty  and  of  her  affection  for 
Monseigneur  the  Dauphin — tales  to  which  Louis,  in 
spite  of  an  assumption  of  indifference,  was  observed 
to  lend  an  attentive  ear.  It  was  said  that  she  desired 
to  put  on  a  disguise  that  she  might  see  him  ;  and 
again,  that  she  had  been  forbidden  by  the  King  of 
Spain  to  speak  of  her  love  for  Monseigneur. 

Louis's  interest  was  by  this  time  fully  roused. 

"  I  will  beat  that  King  of  Spain  well,"  he  exclaimed. 

"  When  I  am  fourteen,"  he  said  some  weeks  later, 
"  they  will  talk  of  marrying  me."  And  again  his 
attendants  took  advantage  of  the  opening  to  reintro- 
duce  the  subject  of  Spain,  and  to  repeat  a  story  he 
much  approved — to  the  effect  that,  playing  at  a  game 
where  ambassadors  came  from  all  parts  of  the  world 

10 


H6  The  Making  of  a  King 

to  wait  upon  her,  the  Infanta  was  accustomed  to  dis- 
tinguish Louis's  representative  beyond  all  the  rest,  by 
causing  him  to  be  seated  and  covered  in  her  presence. 

Whilst  it  was  thus  plainly  the  object  of  the  Dauphin's 
household  to  prepare  his  mind  to  look  favourably  on 
the  prospect  of  the  Spanish  match,  the  King,  if  in  no 
way  disposed  to  fall  unreservedly  into  the  project, 
appears  at  this  time  to  have  lent  it  a  certain  amount  of 
countenance.  In  February  he  looked  on,  in  the  company 
of  two  Jesuits — one  of  whom  was  a  Spaniard — at  a 
ballet  performed  by  his  children,  his  pride  and  pleasure 
finding  vent  in  tears  of  joy  ;  and  the  Spanish  priest 
was  further  entrusted  with  a  gift  for  the  Infanta,  in 
the  shape  of  an  autograph  maxim — u  Le  sage  £coute  le 
conseil  qu'on  lui  donne  " — in  Louis's  own  handwriting. 

The  future  of  Henri  de  Verneuil  was  also  being 
cared  for  ;  there  was  indeed  no  fear  that  his  mother 
would  allow  him  to  be  overlooked.  For  him  the 
Church  was  to  provide  a  career  ;  and  it  was  hoped  that 
when  a  dispensation  from  Rome  should  have  overcome 
the  obstacles  presented  by  his  youth  and  by  the  irregu- 
larity of  his  birth,  he  would  be  placed  without  delay  in 
possession  of  the  Bishopric  of  Metz.  The  Marquise 
was  continually  pressing  for  the  completion  of  the 
transaction,  and  by  February  the  Cathedral  chapter  had 
been  dealt  with  so  successfully  that  a  deputation  from 
that  body  waited  upon  the  little  Marquis  and  recognised 
in  him  their  future  head. 

Another  of  the  King's  projects  was  doomed  to  failure. 
He  had  conceived  a  desire  to  marry  his  daughter, 
Catherine  de  Vendome,  to  Sully's  son,  for  whom  he 
cherished  a  fatherly  affection,  and  who  would  furthermore 


Sully's  Religious  Views  147 

inherit  the  large  fortune  the  minister  was  amassing.  Two 
hindrances  barred  the  way.  Young  Rosny  was  already 
betrothed.  It  was,  moreover,  desirable  that,  before  so 
close  an  alliance  took  place  with  the  royal  house,  Sully 
himself,  as  well  as  his  son,  should  abjure  his  Protestant- 
ism and  embrace  the  Catholic  faith.  Eager  for  the 
accomplishment  of  his  wishes,  neither  hindrance  appeared 
to  Henri  insuperable,  and  he  set  himself  with  ardour  to 
clear  them  from  his  path.  He,  the  King,  had  found 
his  way  into  the  Catholic  fold  ;  why  then,  he  may 
have  questioned,  should  not  his  faithful  friend  and 
servant  follow  him  ?  Sully,  though  stiff  in  his  up- 
rightness, was  not  supposed  to  be  inaccessible  to  bribes, 
and  Henri's  offers  were  liberal.  Marriage  and  con- 
version granted,  the  Duke  was  to  be  promised  the 
reversion  of  the  posts  of  Constable  and  of  the  govern- 
ment of  Normandy. 

The  position  taken  up  by  the  minister  was  clearly 
defined.  With  regard  to  the  marriage  he  seems  to 
have  felt  no  scruple  in  setting  aside,  at  his  master's 
behest,  the  engagements  into  which  he  had  entered.  He 
was,  he  said,  ready  to  make  the  King  a  present  of  his 
son  ;  let  him  do  with  him  what  he  would.  He  would 
counsel  the  young  man  to  yield  obedience  to  the  royal 
command.  Religion  was  a  different  matter.  To 
Henri's  envoy,  the  Cardinal  du  Perron,  Sully  frankly 
confessed  that  he  had  long  ago  done  his  best  to  be- 
come a  Catholic.  His  efforts  had  been  vain  ;  and, 
though  the  singular  toleration  he  had  always  shown  in 
ecclesiastical  matters,  the  fairness  and  justice  of  his 
dealings  where  Catholic  interests  were  concerned,  had 
roused  his  co-religionists  to  suspicion  and  caused  them 


148  The  Making  of  a  King 

to  entertain  fears  that  he  might  follow  his  master's 
example,  he  had  remained  firm  in  his  principles.  For 
reasons  he  now  detailed  to  the  Cardinal  he  had  found 
it  impossible  to  reconcile  to  his  satisfaction  the 
Gospel  and  the  Church,  an3  he  held  out  no  hopes  that 
his  convictions  would  be  shaken.  Henri,  though 
regretfully,  shifted  his  ground.  Since  Sully  cherished 
more  affection  for  the  Huguenots  than  for  the  King, 
he  told  him  reproachfully,  he  would  say  no  more  on 
that  point  ;  reiterating,  however,  his  demand  that  he 
would  order  his  son  to  embrace  the  Catholic  faith. 
Again  Sully  refused.  His  son  was  in  Henri's  hands, 
he  repeated,  to  do  what  he  would  with  him,  nor  would 
he  dissuade  him  from  yielding  obedience  in  the  matter 
at  issue.  But  he  must  leave  him  free  to  make  his  own 
decision.  Young  Rosny  showed  no  disposition  to 
defer  to  the  King's  wishes  in  theological  affairs,  and  the 
marriage  negotiation  collapsed. 

In  March  Don  Giovanni,  the  Queen's  uncle,  who 
had,  irregularly  and  so  much  to  his  niece's  dissatisfac- 
tion, filled  the  post  of  the  Grand-duke's  representative 
for  the  last  eighteen  months,  took  his  departure.  His 
sudden  request  for  permission  to  quit  the  French 
Court  was  proffered  on  his  return  from  an  enter- 
tainment given  by  Concini  in  honour  of  the  baptism 
of  a  daughter  to  whom  the  King  himself,  with  the 
Princesse  de  Conde,  had  acted  as  sponsor.  It  was 
imagined  in  some  quarters  that  his  departure  was  due 
to  this  fresh  proof  of  favour,  accorded  to  a  countryman 
for  whom  he  had  little  liking.  To  the  Queen  his 
departure  will  have  brought  relief;  and  he  could  be 
the  better  spared  in  consequence  of  the  arrival  of  a 


Photo  by  Levy  et  ses  fils,  after  the  painting  by  Rubens. 

MARIE    DE    MEDICIS. 
P-  148] 


The  Chevalier  Guidi  H9 

certain  Chevalier  Camillo  Guidi  di  Volterra,  as  accredited 
envoy  from  Florence. 

A  practised  diplomatist,  the  new  agent  had  been 
supplied  with  careful  and  detailed  instructions,  more 
especially  as  to  the  line  of  conduct  he  was  to  enjoin 
upon  the  Queen.  She  was  to  be  urged  to  subordinate 
her  private  and  domestic  grievances  to  the  welfare  of 
the  State  ;  to  induce  the  King  to  take  all  possible  care 
of  his  life  ;  and,  though  with  dignity,  not  to  refuse  to 
lend  herself  to  the  furtherance  of  his  pleasures.  By  so 
doing  she  would  increase  his  afFection  for  herself  and 
defeat  the  malice  of  her  enemies.  The  favour  she 
showed  towards  Concini  and  his  wife  had  called  forth 
the  Grand-duke's  strongest  disapproval,  and  he  alluded 
to  it  with  severity.  It  was,  he  said,  odious,  if  not 
scandalous. 

On  Guidi's  introduction  to  the  Court  he  may 
have  reasonably  imagined  that  the  difficulties  of  his 
mission  had  been  painted  in  unduly  dark  colours. 
If  the  King,  inclined  to  resent  the  Grand-duke's 
attitude  with  regard  to  Spanish  affairs,  showed  at 
first  some  coldness  towards  the  envoy,  it  quickly  wore 
off ;  and,  politics  having  been  dismissed,  he  became  gay 
and  friendly,  drawing  the  Chevalier's  attention  more 
than  once  to  the  brightness  displayed  by  the  Dauphin 
or  by  others  of  the  children  present  at  the  audience, 
and  making  inquiries  as  to  what  he  thought  of  the 
Queen. 

"  Does  she  not  seem  to  you  in  good  health  ?  "  he 
demanded.  "  Is  she  not  looking  well  ?  Have  I  not 
taken  good  care  of  her  for  you  ?  " 

The  Tuscan,  as  in  duty  bound,  replied  with  enthusi- 


150  The  Making  of  a  King 

asm  in  the  affirmative,  rendering  thanks  to  God  and  to 
his  Majesty.  After  which,  perceiving  that  the  King 
had  business  to  transact,  he  withdrew  discreetly  to  a 
distance  ;  whence  he  watched,  with  admiration,  the  ease 
of  Henri's  manners  and  the  freedom  of  his  intercourse 
with  those  around  him. 

The  audience  concluded,  King  and  Queen  went  out 
driving  together  in  friendly  fashion  ;  and  the  envoy 
paid  a  visit  to  Louis,  to  whom  he  presented  letters 
from  the  Grand-duke,  his  wife,  and  his  son. 

If  Signor  Guidi  had  flattered  himself  that  he 
would  experience  no  great  difficulty  in  the  fulfilment 
of  his  master's  directions,  he  was  quickly  undeceived  ; 
nor  was  it  long  before  the  favourable  impression 
created  by  his  first  visit  to  Court  was  modified.  He 
was  soon  to  discover  that  to  perform  his  duty  as 
prescribed  by  the  Grand-duke  and  at  the  same  time 
to  please  the  Queen  would  be  no  easy  task.  Marie 
had  become,  as  he  wrote,  "  non  poco  ombrosa  e  col- 
lerica."  Though  resenting  the  King's  conduct  towards 
herself,  the  coolness  between  her  uncle  and  Henri  had 
affected  her  sentiments  towards  the  Grand-duke  ;  she 
was  no  longer  inclined  to  render  him  obedience, 
and  refused  to  be  treated  as  a  child.  Queen  of 
France  and  mother  of  four  children,  she  declared 
she  would  not  continue  to  submit  to  this  species 
of  discipline. 

There  was  no  more  to  be  said.  The  lips  of  the 
Tuscan  Ambassador  were  closed,  and  his  counsels  of 
prudence  rejected  ;  the  Concini  couple  flattered  their 
mistress,  encouraged  her  in  her  unwisdom,  and  were 
daily  increasing  in  power  and  prosperity.  There 


Louis'  Horror  of  Parsimony  151 

was  even  talk,  reported  the  envoy,  of  a  government 
being  bestowed  upon  the  favourite.  The  King,  how- 
ever, would  not  venture  on  that  step,  in  the  face 
of  the  indignation  it  would  evoke.  In  the  mean- 
time, he  had  been  appointed  First  Equerry  to  the 
Queen. 

The  visit  of  the  Dauphin  to  Paris,  where  he  had 
been  present  at  Guidi's  reception,  had  lasted  no  more 
than  a  week,  but  had  been  spent  in  learning  royal 
ways.  So  large  a  number  of  the  nobles  had  met  him 
on  his  arrival  that  the  King  had  been  left  almost 
deserted  in  the  palace.  Louis  also  received  in  audience 
the  Venetian  Ambassador,  who  came  to  take  leave  of 
him  and  to  introduce  his  successor.  Sully  was  visited, 
and  the  Arsenal  inspected  by  the  young  heir,  to  whom 
the  Duke  presented  a  gift  of  a  hundred  crowns,  half 
that  sum  being  given  to  Madame  and  twenty-five 
crowns  to  Catherine  de  Vend6me.  The  Verneuil 
brother  and  sister  received  nothing. 

The  boy  appears  about  this  time  to  have  conceived 
a  horror  of  parsimony,  probably  instilled  into  him 
by  those  who  hoped  to  profit  by  his  liberality. 
Making  purchases  in  Paris,  he  would  insist  upon 
paying  more  than  was  demanded,  would  give 
three  crowns  when  one  had  been  named  as  the  price 
of  some  article  ;  and  when  fifteen  were  to  have  been 
the  purchase-money  of  an  attractive  cart  moved  by 
springs,  he  refused  to  take  possession  of  the  toy  until 
fifty  had  been  handed  over  to  the  fortunate  owner. 

If  it  was  desirable  that  the  future  King  should  be 
indoctrinated  with  the  principle  that  generosity  is  a 
royal  virtue,  Madame  de  Montglat  appears  to  have 


i52  The  Making  of  a  King 

found  at  times  that  her  lesson  had  been  too  well 
mastered. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  remonstrated,  when  the  child 
demanded  four  crowns  to  bestow  upon  the  porters 
who  had  carried  his  luggage  to  Fontainebleau,  "  would 
not  two  crowns  be  enough  ? " 

"  He !  no,  mamanga"  he  pleaded  ;  "  they  are  so 
poor/'  And  the  gouvernante  gave  way. 

Towards  the  poor  he  was  always  pitiful.  Towards 
others  every  means  was  taken  to  teach  him  to  assume 
from  the  first  the  place  to  which  he  was  entitled  as 
heir  to  the  throne.  It  was  Louis  who,  in  the  King's 
absence,  took  the  watchword  from  his  mother  and 
passed  it  on  to  the  captain  of  the  guard,  making 
minute  inquiries  as  to  the  arrangements  for  the  night. 
It  was  he  who  wrote,  on  the  Queen's  behalf,  when  she 
herself  was  ill,  to  his  father.  Nor  was  there  any 
danger  that  the  boy  would  forget  his  position. 

c<  My  place  is  everywhere,"  he  replied  loftily,  when 
Cesar  de  Vend6me  had  bidden  him  take  his  place  in  a 
ballet. 

The  pleasure  the  King  took  in  his  children  was  in 
some  measure  counterbalanced  by  the  anxiety  they 
caused  him.  Not  only  were  they,  and  especially  the 
Dauphin,  threatened  with  danger  from  those  whose 
interests  would  have  been  served  by  their  removal, 
but  health  was  a  recurrent  source  of  anxiety  in  the 
royal  nursery.  The  little  Due  d'Orleans  had  been 
delicate  from  his  birth  ;  and  the  detailed  bulletins  sent 
by  his  father  to  Sully  bear  witness  to  the  close  and 
personal  watch  he  kept  upon  the  child,  his  spirits 
fluctuating  in  accordance  with  the  changes  in  the 


Betrothal  of  Vendome  153 

patient.  "  I  am  as  gay  to-day,"  he  wrote,  when 
amendment  could  be  reported,  "  as  I  was  sad  yester- 
day "  ;  and  again  and  again  the  same  note  is 
repeated. 

In  April  a  fifth  child  had  been  added  to  those  Marie 
had  borne  to  the  King,  in  the  person  of  Gaston,  to 
become,  on  his  brother's  death,  Due  d'Orleans.  The 
birth  of  a  third  son  was  a  matter  of  rejoicing  in  which 
the  Dauphin  cordially  joined.  "  I  am  glad,"  he  said  ; 
"  there  are  now  three  of  us."  His  brother,  Gaston, 
was  to  give  him  little  reason  to  regard  him  with 
affection. 

On  the  whole  matters  were  going  well  with  the 
King.  During  the  month  of  July  he  succeeded  in 
carrying  out,  in  spite  of  strong  and  persistent  opposi- 
tion, the  betrothal  of  his  eldest  son,  Cesar  de  Vendome, 
to  Mademoiselle  du  Mercoeur,  a  project  upon  which 
his  heart  was  set. 

Attached  to  all  his  children,  Henri  had  ever  shown 
particular  affection  for  the  young  Duke.  He  was  his 
eldest  son  ;  he  was  also  the  son  of  Gabrielle  ;  and  the 
boy  had  been  his  constant  companion.  With  regard 
to  his  nature  and  disposition  he  cherished  illusions 
which  death  left  undispelled.  Louis's  instinct  was 
truer,  and  he  had  never  liked  his  half-brother.  The 
coming  years  were  to  show  that  he  was  right,  and  that 
there  was  little  in  Vendome  to  command  admiration  or 
trust. 

For  this  lad  Henri  was  bent  upon  obtaining 
the  hand  of  one  of  the  great  heiresses  of  the 
house  of  Lorraine,  but  there  were  difficulties  in  the 
way.  The  nobles  of  France,  allied  with  the  royal 


1 54  The  Making  of  a  King 

house,  and  proud  of  their  lineage  and  descent, 
were  not  unnaturally  inclined  to  resent  the  King's 
endeavours  to  wed  their  sons  and  daughters  with  his 
illegitimate  children.  In  some  cases  his  overtures  were 
flatly  rejected.  When  he  attempted,  a  little  later,  to 
marry  Gabrielle  de  Verneuil  to  the  son  of  the  Due  de 
Montmorency,  Constable  of  France,  the  Duke  bluntly 
refused  to  consent  to  the  match  ;  and  at  first  it 
seemed  that  the  Due  de  Mercoeur  would  be  equally 
unyielding.  The  women  of  the  family  were  likewise 
in  arms.  Vendome  was  no  more  than  fifteen,  and 
looked  younger.  The  girl  was  somewhat  older,  and> 
supported  by  her  mother  and  grandmother,  was  violent 
in  her  opposition.  She  would,  she  declared,  not  only 
rather  become  a  nun,  but  would  be  buried  alive  sooner 
than  consent.  Young  Vend6me,  for  his  part,  was  not 
less  reluctant.  But  the  King,  as  his  letters  to  Sully 
show,  was  bent  upon  the  arrangement. 

"  Send  me  word,'*  he  wrote,  "  if  that  woman  (the 
Duchesse  de  Mercceur)is  not  frightened  ;  tell  me  what 
you  have  learnt ;  how  the  affair  is  going  on.  ...  I  am 
told  she  is  a  little  softened,  but  that  she  has  determined, 
in  consultation  with  those  nearest  to  her,  to  gain  time. 
Therefore  she  must  be  hurried,  so  that  we  may  see 
light."  In  three  or  four  days  he  recurs  to  the 
subject.  The  Bishop  of  Verdun  was  to  be  employed 
as  intermediary  :  "  I  will  give  him  all  the  fine  phrases 
I  can  think  of." 

Sully — not,  one  imagines,  without  congratulating 
himself  that  religion  had  afforded  his  own  son  a 
way  of  escape — set  himself  to  further  the  King's 
scheme  as  best  he  might.  Three  expedients  were 


Betrothal  of  Vend6me  155 

possible.  The  first  was  the  exercise  of  the  King's 
sovereign  authority — which  would  be  the  most  rapid. 
The  second,  and  the  more  just  and  desirable,  would  be 
the  use  of  gentleness  and  persuasion.  The  third  was 
to  proceed  by  means  of  common  law — the  longest  and 
most  vulgar.  Sully  advocated  the  second,  a  method 
already  employed  by  Pere  Cotton,  the  King's  Jesuit 
confessor,  more  adapted,  in  the  Duke's  opinion,  than 
any  other  man  to  carry  it  to  perfection,  "  for  if  eccle- 
siastics and  those  who  deal  with  cases  of  conscience  do 
not  know  how  by  these  means  to  bring  grandmother, 
mother,  and  daughter  to  a  better  state  of  mind,  I  know 
not  how  any  other  method  can  succeed." 

Cotton,  and  others,  were  successful.  The  King's 
will  was  accomplished,  and  on  July  16  the  Dauphin 
assisted  at  the  ceremony  of  the  betrothal ;  the  King, 
as  Guidi  wrote,  "  having  been  so  determined  and  in 
such  a  fury  on  the  subject  that  any  one  would  have 
been  dismissed  who  had  opposed  it."  The  unwilling 
pair  were  to  be  allowed  a  year's  respite  before  their 
marriage,  and  the  boy  was  to  be  sent  to  his  govern- 
ment of  Brittany.  They  appear,  however,  to  have 
quickly  become  resigned  to  the  inevitable,  and  the 
Tuscan  Resident  reported,  not  a  fortnight  later,  that 
they  were  perfectly  happy,  and  only  anxious  that  the 
time  of  probation  should  pass  swiftly. 

This  affair  brought  to  a  successful  conclusion,  Henri 
was  at  liberty  to  turn  to  his  favourite  amusements,  and 
in  particular  to  the  completion  of  the  improvements  he 
had  set  in  hand  at  Fontainebleau. 

<c  Here  is  a  means  to  have  my  canal  finished,"  he 
said,  when  informed  of  the  death  of  some  official  the 


156  The  Making  of  a  King 

sale  of  whose  vacant  post  would  bring  in  a  considerable 
sum,  "  for  you  must  know,"  wrote  Malherbe,  "  that 
this  canal  is  at  present  his  predominant  passion,  and 
that,  with  all  this  heat — excessive  if  ever  it  was  so — 
he  was  usually  seated  on*a  stone  from  five  or  six  in  the 
morning  until  midday,  without  parasol  or  any  sort  of 
shade,  watching  his  masons  at  work." 

The  canal  and  kindred  interests  afforded  a  welcome 
distraction  from  serious  business.  Vendome's  future 
might  be  secured,  but  the  more  important  question 
of  the  Spanish  marriages  was  now  to  be  pressed 
forward. 

Four  days  after  he  had  assisted  at  the  betrothal  of 
his  half-brother  the  Dauphin  received  an  important 
visit.  The  guest  on  this  occasion  was  Don  Pedro  de 
Toledo,  sent  to  France  on  a  special  mission,  who, 
coming  to  salute  the  Dauphin,  "  kisses  his  hand,  and 
says  he  is  very  glad  to  see  that  he  is  so  handsome  and 
gentil  a  prince,  praying  God  for  his  prosperity." 

That  same  day  Don  Pedro  had  been  accorded  a 
formal  audience  by  the  King,  preparatory  to  entering 
upon  the  discussion  of  the  business  that  brought  him 
to  Paris.  The  negotiation  was  intended  to  pave  the 
way  for  no  less  than  three  intermarriages  between  the 
houses  of  France  and  Spain.  Having  failed  to  effect 
the  subjugation  of  the  revolted  provinces  of  the 
Netherlands,  Philip  III.  had  devised  this  scheme  in 
the  hope  of  thereby  detaching  Henri  from  the  cause 
of  his  rebellious  subjects,  and  depriving  them  of  the 
support,  moral  and  material,  they  had  hitherto  never 
failed  to  receive  from  him. 

With    the    object   of    furthering    this    project   Don 


Don  Pedro  de  Toledo's  Mission         157 

Pedro  had  been  sent.  The  envoy  proved  to  have 
been  singularly  ill-chosen.  Described  by  the  King  as  a 
solemn  idiot,  his  line  of  conduct  and  the  arguments  by 
which  he  sought  to  convince  Henri  of  the  wisdom  of 
acceding  to  his  master's  wishes  displayed  a  deplorable 
lack  of  diplomatic  skill  and  ability.  What  was  wanting 
in  these  respects  he  strove  to  supply  by  pomp  and 
magnificence,  his  retinue  numbering  upwards  of  a 
hundred  persons. 

The  first  meeting  of  King  and  envoy  did  not, 
according  to  Lestoile,  promise  well  for  the  future. 
Greeting  the  guest  with  courtesy,  Henri  expressed  a 
fear  that  his  reception  had  not  corresponded  with  his 
deserts. 

"Sire,"  replied  the  Ambassador,  "I  have  been  so 
well  received  that  I  regret  the  misunderstanding  that 
may  cause  me  to  return  with  an  army,  in  which  case  I 
should  not  be  equally  welcome/' 

"  Ventre  Saint-gris^  exclaimed  the  King.  "  Come 
whensoever  your  master  may  please,  and  you  shall  not 
yourself  lack  a  welcome.  In  the  event  of  what  you 
speak  of  coming  to  pass,  your  master  and  all  his  forces 
will  find  obstacles  in  their  way  at  the  frontier,  which  I 
may  possibly  not  allow  him  leisure  to  inspect.'1 

To  Don  Pedro's  complaints  of  breaches  of 
Henri's  engagements  with  Spain,  in  the  shape  of 
assistance  afforded  to  the  Low  Countries,  the  King  was 
able  to  retort  by  pointing  out  that  his  alleged  offences 
had  been  as  nothing  in  comparison  with  the  injuries 
inflicted  upon  himself.  Yet,  though  differing,  as  was 
perhaps  inevitable,  upon  matters  of  fact,  this  first 
interview  was  on  the  whole  not  otherwise  than  amicable, 


158  The  Making  of  a  King 

the  King  afterwards  praising  the  humility  and  patience 
displayed  by  the  envoy. 

What  Don  Pedro  thought  of  Henri — of  his  sagacity, 
quickness,  and  command  of  language — may  be  inferred 
from  a  remark  he  is  quoted  as  making,  to  the  effect  that 
his  master  had  not  sent  him  to  a  King,  but  rather  to  a 
devil,  "  for,"  he  added,  "  he  knows  more  than  the  great 
Devil  and  all  the  other  devils.'1 

On  the  other  hand,  meeting  one  day  a  servant  who 
was  bearing  the  King's  sword,  he  begged  to  be  per- 
mitted to  examine  and  handle  it,  and,  after  turning  it 
every  way,  kissed  the  weapon  before  giving  it  back, 
happy,  as  he  explained,  to  have  seen  and  held  the  sword 
of  the  greatest,  best,  most  valiant  and  magnanimous 
monarch  alive. 

It  was  one  thing  to  pay  exaggerated  compliments  ; 
it  was  quite  another  to  conduct  a  difficult  mission 
with  success.  Preliminary  courtesies  over,  the  true 
object  of  Don  Pedro's  embassy  was  introduced  at  a 
subsequent  audience,  his  manner  of  dealing  with  it 
leaving  much  to  be  desired.  In  blundering  fashion 
he  explained  that  his  master  had  been  informed  from 
Rome  that  Henri  was  desirous  of  effecting  the  mar- 
riages in  question,  adding  that,  should  Philip  lend 
a  favourable  ear  to  the  proposal,  it  would  be  con- 
ditional upon  Henri's  undertaking  to  bring  about 
the  submission  of  the  United  Provinces.  The  Pope 
had  pressed  the  scheme,  but  Henri's  conduct  with 
regard  to  the  Netherlands  caused  the  King  of  Spain 
to  hesitate. 

Such  was  the  substance  of  Don  Pedro's  discourse,  such 
the  means  by  which  he  strove  to  carry  his  point.  To  a 


Don  Pedro  de  Toledo's  Mission         159 

sensitive,  proud,  and  hot-tempered  man  it  was  little 
short  of  insulting,  and  not  once  or  twice  Henri  gave 
the  envoy  the  lie  direct.  "  Ce  n'est  pas  vrai,"  he  said 
again  and  again.  With  regard  to  the  intervention  of 
Rome  he  declared  that,  whilst  venerating  the  Pope  as 
the  successor  of  St.  Peter,  he  made  no  account  of  him 
in  connection  with  public  affairs.  He  had  neither 
thought  nor  said  what  was  reported.  It  was  a  singular 
notion  that  he  would  have  offered  his  children  to  any 
person  in  the  world.  They  would  only  be  accorded 
if  demanded  in  due  form. 

Don  Pedro  had  not  made  a  successful  beginning. 
Finding  the  King  in  no  pliable  humour,  he  had 
recourse  to  the  Queen.  Though  Marie  would  doubt- 
less have  been  glad  to  further  Spanish  interests,  she 
received  no  encouragement  from  Henri  to  interfere  in 
the  matter.  Let  her  not  concern  herself  with  it,  he 
said  ;  he  alone  would  settle  this  business.  And  when 
Don  Pedro,  making  one  blunder  after  another,  gave  a 
hint  that  sounded  like  a  threat  that  Philip  might  make 
peace  with  the  Netherlands  in  order  to  be  at  liberty  to 
turn  his  arms  against  France,  Henri's  retort  was  ready. 
He  would  be  in  the  saddle  before  the  King  of  Spain 
had  his  foot  in  the  stirrup. 

It  was  clear  that  he  was  not  to  be  induced,  by 
menace  or  persuasion,  to  abandon  his  allies,  and 
Don  Pedro's  mission  was  wholly  unsuccessful.  Some 
months  later  he  left  Paris  by  night,  in  order  to  escape 
from  his  creditors.  Thus  ended  the  visit  of  the  solemn 
idiot. 

Yet  it  was  not  without  one  result.  It  had  placed 
King  and  Queen  in  definite  opposition  upon  an 


160  The  Making  of  a  King 

important  question.  At  the  moment  it  seemed  that 
Henri  had  vindicated  his  authority  and  that  his  wife 
had  little  chance  of  seeing  her  favourite  scheme  carried 
out.  But,  as  the  sequel  was  to  prove,  the  negotiations 
begun  at  the  time  of  Don  Pedro's  mission  were  to  end 
in  the  double  marriage  she  desired. 


CHAPTER   XIII 
1608 — 1609 

Henri-Quatre  preparing  for  war — Conciliates  Concini — The  Dauphin 
removed  to  the  Louvre — His  household — The  King  at  the  Arsenal 
— Sully  under  suspicion — His  vindication — Henri  and  the  Jesuits. 

HENRI  had  asserted  his  determination  to  remain 
true  to  his  pledges.  He  was  neither  to  be 
bribed  nor  to  be  induced  by  threats  to  abandon  the 
cause  of  the  United  Netherlands.  The  overtures  of 
Spain  having  been  rejected,  it  remained  to  make  ready 
for  a  renewal  of  hostilities  ;  nor  was  Henri  unwilling 
to  face  that  contingency.  To  the  autumn  of  this  year 
belongs  a  characteristic  letter  to  Sully,  showing  him 
preparing  for  what  was  to  come  with  a  quiet  confi- 
dence in  the  righteousness  of  the  cause  in  which,  if 
fighting  was  to  ensue,  he  would  fight. 

"  I  am  always,"  he  wrote,  "  in  the  same  faith  that 
God  will  perform  a  coup  de  sa  main  in  this  business, 
which  men  will  not  have  expected,  and  in  contravention 
to  all  their  designs.  I  have  seen  this  happen  for  thirty 
years,  and  ever  to  my  advantage.  May  it  continue 
thus  with  reference  to  this  affair,  and  may  my  faults 
and  my  ingratitude  not  serve  as  a  hindrance  !  " 

The  next  letter  shows  him  supplementing  the  divine 
assistance  he  invoked  by  a  careful  watch  upon 

domestic  foes. 

161 


1 62  The  Making  of  a  King 

"  Since  M.  de  Mayenne  and  those  of  Antibe,"  he 
told  Sully,  "  desire  to  overcharge  me  for  their  lands,  I 
will  permit  them  to  sell  to  whomsoever  they  will.  But 
I  will  put  a  Governor  into  the  fortress  who,  devoted  to 
me,  will  give  them  some,  uneasiness  in  the  enjoyment 
of  their  possessions." 

Firm  and  upright  where  public  interests  were 
concerned,  the  contrast  presented  by  his  conduct 
in  private  affairs  is  thrown  into  the  more  vivid 
and  melancholy  relief.  In  such  matters  he  was 
destitute  of  the  moral  sense,  as  well  as  of  a  regard  for 
what  was  due  to  his  position  and  dignity.  It  was 
matter  of  increasing  notoriety  that  the  position  held  by 
the  Queen's  Italian  favourites  was  a  source,  if  not  of 
danger,  of  scandal,  and  that  their  influence  could  not 
fail  to  be  productive  of  trouble.  Had  Henri  acted 
upon  Sully's  suggestion,  and  determined,  by  the  simple 
exercise  of  sovereign  power,  to  dismiss  them,  he  would 
have  had  all  the  wisdom  of  France  on  his  side.  Even 
his  enemies  could  not  have  found  a  pretext  for 
condemnation.  If  he  had  been  personally  blameless  it 
can  scarcely  be  doubted  that  he  would  have  adopted 
this  method  of  securing  a  better  chance  of  domestic 
peace  and  concord.  But,  underlying  resentment  at  his 
wife's  conduct,  a  consciousness  that  he  had  deprived 
himself  of  a  moral  right  to  interpose,  may,  co-operating 
with  a  fear  of  retaliation  on  her  part,  have  prevented 
him  from  taking  the  sole  dignified  course.  He 
resorted,  instead,  to  the  unworthy  expedient  of  bribing 
the  man  he  hated  and  despised.  The  insinuation  of 
the  Italian  Resident  that,  were  it  not  forsthe  opposition 
of  the  French  nobles,  the  j  King  might  have  bestowed 


Conchino  de  Conchnnm  Vifconte, .^__ ......  _ 

!E>arm  dcLisigmJdarcchdl  dc  Trance.-  Gouuemcurjwur S(L 
Maiefttdcf  Ttiles  ct  Gtadefar  ddmieruX 


From  an  engraving  by  B.  Mov.tornet. 

CONCINO    CONCINI,    MARQUIS    D*ANCRE. 
p.  162] 


The  King  and  Concini  163 

a  post  of  as  much  importance  as  a  government  upon 
Concini,  as  well  as  his  consent  to  act  as  sponsor  to  his 
child,  finds  an  explanation  in  a  further  report  that, 
despairing  of  persuading  the  Queen  by  other  means  to 
admit  the  Marquise  to  Court,  he  had  abased  himself  to 
conciliate  her  favourite,  in  the  hope  of  thus  obtaining 
his  object. 

The  terms  upon  which  the  two  appear  to  have  been 
in  August  of  this  year  tend  to  corroborate  the  dis- 
creditable report.  The  Court  was  at  Fontainebleau 
when  Concini,  perceiving,  or  imagining  that  he  per- 
ceived, a  coolness  in  the  King's  demeanour  towards 
him,  did  not  hesitate  to  demand  an  explanation. 

"  Your  Majesty,"  he  complained,  has  something 
against  me,  since  you  do  not  show  me  your  accustomed 
favour.  This  does  not  matter,  as  in  whatever  way 
you  may  treat  me  I  am  honoured.  It  is  the  cause 
that  makes  me  uneasy,  for  it  cannot  but  be  false. 
For  this  reason  I  entreat  you  to  inform  me  of  it,  that 
truth  may  triumph." 

Answering  that  the  Italian  was  mistaken,  that 
his  thoughts  had  merely  been  otherwise  occupied, 
Henri  gave  him  a  fresh  proof  of  good- will  by  according 
him,  for  the  first  time,  the  honour  of  a  seat  in  his 
carriage  ;  and  later  on  in  the  year  he  is  found  dining 
at  the  palace  Concini  had  caused  to  be  erected  in 
Paris. 

Yet  he  was  keenly  alive  to  the  situation  and  the  con- 

quences  that  might  result  from  it. 

u  You  see  that  man  ? "  he  once  said  to  those  around 
when  the  favourite,  having  been  sent  by  the  Queen  to 
im  on  some  matter  of  business,  had  withdrawn.  "  It 


164  The  Making  of  a  King 

is  he  who  will  govern  when  I  am  gone,  and  things  will 
not  go  the  better  for  it." 

Weary,  perhaps,  of  strife,  he  had,  however,  ceased  to 
combat  what  he  recognised  as  a  danger.  The  policy 
of  conciliation  he  adopted  was  successful,  so  far,  at 
least,  as  outward  appearances  went ;  and  the  Queen's 
open  indignation  was  replaced  by  an  attitude  of  tolera- 
tion and  acquiescence. 

"  I  showed  your  letter  to  my  wife,"  wrote  Henri  to 
Madame  de  Verneuil  in  September,  "  asking  her  advice 
as  to  my  reply  " — in  reference  to  a  demand  on  the  part 
of  the  Marquise  that  her  children  should  be  allowed 
to  visit  her.  "  I  watched  her  face  to  see  whether  she 
would  display  emotion  whilst  she  read  your  letter,  as  I 
had  perceived  was  the  case  on  other  occasions  when 
you  were  spoken  of.  She  answered,  without  any 
change  of  countenance,  that  it  appeared  to  her  that  I 
ought  to  indulge  you  in  this.  All  the  rest  of  the 
evening  she  was  very  cheerful." 

During  the  same  month  he  wrote  again  in  the  same 
sense.  Mischief-makers  found  that  the  Queen  would 
no  longer  listen  to  them.  She  had  inquired  after 
Henri  de  Verneuil — who  had  apparently  been  ill — and 
had  said  that  his  mother  must  have  been  very 
uneasy. 

The  Queen's  new  departure  is  capable  of  more  than 
one  interpretation.  It  might  be  the  result  of  lassitude  ; 
she  also,  tired  of  fighting  a  losing  battle,  might  have 
abandoned  the  struggle.  On  the  other  hand,  there 
are  those  who  explain  it  in  a  more  sinister  fashion. 
"  This  profound  dissimulation  alarms  me,"  writes 
M.  Dussieux.  "  I  fear  that  the  idea  of  vengeance  had 


The  Dauphin's  Companions  165 

at  this  time  entered  into  the  heart  of  the  Queen  and 
her  too-dear  Concini  ;  and  that  the  latter  was  already 
preparing  that  of  which  his  contemporaries,  the  friends 
of  the  King,  loudly  accused  him." 

At  Saint-Germain,  meanwhile,  the  Dauphin  was 
passing  the  last  months  of  the  period  when,  as  a  child, 
he  would  be  left  to  the  care  of  women.  He  had 
been  provided  with  the  companionship  of  a  group  of 
boys  of  his  own  age,  the  sons  of  nobles,  who,  with 
their  respective  tutors,  were  placed  at  the  chateau. 
Of  this  little  company  Louis  was  the  head,  regulating 
the  management  of  his  household  according  to  his  own 
ideas  of  justice.  "  You  are  their  master,"  Heroard 
told  him.  "  When  they  do  wrong  you  must  rebuke 
them,  and  for  their  punishment  tell  them  that,  unless 
they  are  good,  you  will  love  them  no  longer.  The 
King  has  placed  them  here  with  you  in  order  that 
they  may  learn  to  love  and  serve  you.  They  all  belong 
to  great  and  wealthy  houses." 

To  threaten  his  companions  with  the  loss  of  his 
affection  did  not  appear,  to  the  disciplinarian  of  seven, 
a  sufficient  penalty  for  their  misdeeds.  He  had  him- 
self been  trained  by  means  of  corporal  punishment,  and 
he  was  not  disinclined  to  enforce  the  use  of  it  in  the 
case  of  lesser  delinquents.  Torigny,  in  the  course  of 
a  game,  had  given  a  blow  to  a  playmate.  It  was  true, 
Torigny  might  plead  that  he  had  not  done  it  inten- 
tionally ;  but  he  must  be  taught  to  be  more  careful. 

"  Whip  the  Comte  de  Torigny,"  the  Dauphin  said, 
issuing  his  orders  to  the  culprit's  tutor.  "  You  must 
have  the  whip,  Comte  de  Torigny,"  he  added,  ad- 
dressing him  with  the  formality  becoming  the  gravity 


1 66  The  Making  ol  a  King 

of  the  occasion.  It  was  useless  to  point  out  that  the 
offence  had  been  unpremeditated.  He  adhered  to  his 
verdict. 

"  But,"  pleaded  Heroard,  "  you  will  command  his 
tutor  not  to  whip  him,  on  condition  he  does  it  no 
more." 

Louis  was  relentless. 

"  I  do  it,"  he  said,  "  in  order  that  it  may  not 
happen  again." 

The  companionship  of  the  boys  carried  with  it 
drawbacks,  and  there  were  times  when  the  Dauphin's 
unsocial  instincts  asserted  themselves,  and  he  wearied 
of  being  the  centre  of  the  group. 

u  Let  me  go  into  your  room,  mamanga,  and  write," 
he  once  asked,  ceasing  to  play.  "  They  do  nothing 
but  pester  me.  One  pulls  me  ;  the  other  pushes  me  ; 
another  whispers  in  my  ear.  I  know  not  where  to 
turn." 

At  the  miniature  Court  there  were  also  rivalries  as 
to  the  favour  of  the  master,  treated  by  Louis  with 
discretion. 

"  Which  do  you  like  best,  Monseigneur,"  asked 
the  little  Marquis  de  Mortemart — "  M.  de  Liancourt 
or  me  ?  " 

"  I  like  you  both,"  he  replied  impartially.  "  Stand 
you  there,  and  you  there,  Liancourt." 

The  milestones  marking  life  at  Saint-Germain  were 
the  visits  of  the  King.  The  boy's  affection  for  his 
father,  if  less  demonstrative  than  in  earlier  days,  was 
growing  and  strengthening. 

"  What,  my  son  ? "  Henri  asked,  when,  as  he  was 
quitting  the  chateau  on  one  occasion,  Louis  conducted 


A  Parting  167 

him  in  silence  to  the  stairs  ;  "  you  have  not  a  word 

to    say  ?     You  do  not    kiss    me   when  I   am    leaving 

ii 
you. 

A  crowd  was  around  them.  Quietly,  and  concealing 
his  tears  lest  they  should  be  observed,  the  child  wept. 
As  Henri  saw  it  his  face  changed,  and,  himself  not 
far  from  weeping,  he  took  him  in  his  arms,  kissed  and 
embraced  him. 

"  I  will  say,  as  God  says  in  the  Holy  Scriptures," 
he  told  the  boy,  f<  c  My  son,  I  rejoice  to  see  those 
tears  ;  I  will  have  regard  to  them.' ' 

The  King  gone,  Louis  returned  hastily  to  his 
apartments,  still  unwilling  that  his  emotion  should  be 
observed.  To  Heroard's  question  as  to  the  King's 
farewell  words  he  returned  a  short  answer  : 

"  He  told  me  to  shoot  with  the  arquebus,"  he  said  ; 
nor  could  anything  more  be  extracted  from  him. 

The  time  of  a  final  parting,  with  no  farewell  taken, 
between  father  and  son  was  approaching.  The  dislike 
of  the  boy  to  the  idea  of  his  own  sovereignty  was 
once  more  apparent  when,  at  the  opening  of  the  year 
1609,  the  celebration  of  Twelfth  Night  was  again 
under  discussion. 

"  I  will  not  be  the  King,"  he  said  ;  "  I  will  not. 
Put  in  no  bean,"  he  added  in  a  whisper  to  one  of  his 
attendants,  "  so  that  there  may  be  no  King." 

"  Monsieur,"  explained  his  nurse,  "  if  God  is  King, 
you  must  fill  His  place." 

"  I  will  not  do  it,"  he  reiterated  obstinately. 

"  What,  Monsieur  !  you  refuse  to  fill  God's  place  ?  " 

He  stopped  short,  evidently  startled. 

"  He !  that   is  for  papa  to  do,"  he  said  ;  and  only 


1 68  The  Making  of  a  King 

on  receiving  the  explanation  that  at  Saint-Germain  the 
duty  devolved  upon  him  would  he  consent  to  perform 
the  part. 

A  fortnight  later  the  contemplated  change  was 
accomplished.  The  bojf  was  removed  from  the 
chateau  to  the  Louvre,  and  transferred  from  the  tute- 
lage of  Madame  de  Montglat  to  that  of  the  gouverneur, 
M.  de  Souvre.  Louis  was  to  put  away  childish  things, 
to  be  weaned  from  his  toys,  to  discard  the  term  papa  ; 
and,  seated  in  dignity  at  his  father's  table,  to  be  served 
by  his  own  page. 

In  some  verses  published  "  by  permission "  and 
entitled,  "  L' Adieu  de  Monseigneur  le  Dauphin  partant 
de  Saint-Germain/'  the  event  was  celebrated  : 

Adieu  done,  sans  adieu,  fideles  Germaniques, 

Jamais  je  n'oublieray  le  chateau  ny  le  lieu, 

Ou  j'ai  6t6  nourri  sous  les  lois  pacifiques 

De  mon  Prince  et  mon  roi  que  j'honore  apres  Dieu. 

"  La  sage  Montglat,"  having  instructed  him  in  the 
faith,  was  now  to  surrender  her  charge  to  the  brave 
Souvre  to  be  taught  valour. 

Of  the  boy's  prosaic  sentiments  with  regard  to  the 
change  little  indication  is  given  save  the  fact  that, 
asked  some  months  earlier  by  the  Queen  whether 
he  would  be  marri  at  being  removed  from  mamanga 
he  answered  laconically  in  the  negative. 

As  his  tutor  he  had  been  given  a  certain  Des  Yveteaux, 
who  enjoyed  a  specially  bad  reputation,  and  was  en- 
dowed, says  Lestoile  ironically,  with  all  the  good 
qualities  required  to  make  a  true  and  perfect  courtier 
of  that  day.  The  appointment  had  been  made  by 
Henri,  in  spite  of  all  that  could  be  said  to  dissuade 


Louis  at  the  Louvre  169 

him,  and  notwithstanding  the  Queen's  tearful  entreaties. 
Des  Yveteaux  had,  Henri  said,  educated  Cesar  de 
Vendome  well,  and  would  do  still  better  by  the 
Dauphin.  Remonstrance  was  useless  ;  nevertheless, 
when  the  tutor  returned  thanks,  as  in  duty  bound,  to 
the  Queen,  she  told  him  plainly  that  no  acknowledg- 
ments were  due  to  her  ;  had  she  been  believed,  he 
would  not  have  obtained  his  post. 

Souvre,  on  the  contrary,  was  held  to  be  not  unworthy 
of  the  charge  bestowed  upon  him,  being  one  of  the 
most  accomplished  and  well-conducted  men  attached  to 
the  Court. 

The  change  from  Saint-Germain  to  the  Louvre  must 
have  been  great.  Not  Madame  de  Montglat  alone,  but 
Louis's  brothers  and  sisters  were  left  behind,  meetings 
taking  place  only  for  the  future  when  they  were 
brought  to  Paris  for  a  few  days  or  he  paid  them  a  brief 
visit  at  the  chateau.  The  comparative  freedom  of  the 
country  was  replaced  by  the  restraints  of  a  city.  The 
Dauphin  was  not,  however,  deprived  of  the  companion- 
ship of  playmates  of  his  age,  and  was  surrounded  in 
Paris  by  the  same  band  of  enfants  fhonneur  as  before, 
boys  drawn  from  the  most  illustrious  houses  of  France, 
who  formed  a  miniature  household  upon  which  he 
continued  to  rehearse  the  art  of  ruling,  jealous  of  any 
attempt  to  interfere  with  the  exercise  of  his  authority. 
Out  riding,  his  "  little  gentlemen "  marched  before 
him,  two  and  two,  taking  rank  by  their  length  of 
service  ;  he  reviewed  the  company,  armed,  before  the 
King,  who  took  a  "singular  pleasure"  in  the  show, 
and  kept  the  roll-call  of  his  comrades,  written  in  his 
>wn  hand.  A  precocious  disciplinarian,  he  permitted 


170  The  Making  of  a  King 

no  discourtesy  between  the  boys  ;  and  what  Heroard 
terms  u  la  premiere  justice  de  sa  chambre  "  was  held 
when  one  of  them  had  given  the  other  the  lie,  and  was 
made  to  expiate  the  insult  by  a  whipping.  On  other 
occasions  he  would  protest  against  too  summary  a 
method  of  dealing  with  their  delinquencies. 

"  It  is  their  gouverneurs  who  flatter  them,"  he  said, 
when,  two  of  the  boys  having  been  detected  dicing  with 
some  lacqueys,  M.  de  Souvre  pronounced  them  in- 
corrigible and  would  have  had  them  sent  back  to  their 
homes  ;  "  they  must  be  told  of  it."  Louis  himself 
had  no  love  of  flattery  ;  and  possibly,  even  at  eight, 
he  had  learnt  to  appraise  it  at  its  just  value. 

No  outsider  was  permitted  to  chastise  those  belonging 
to  his  household. 

"  You  are  not  my  equerry,"  he  told  the  Due  de 
Longueville  sharply,  when  that  young  gentleman,  aged 
fourteen,  offered  his  services  to  correct  the  enfants 
d'honneur.  "  See  how  bold  he  is,"  he  added  in  an 
aside  to  a  bystander.  "  He  is  no  equerry  of  mine." 

Louis  was  himself,  in  spite  of  his  new  dignities,  by 
no  means  exempted  from  the  discipline  of  the  rod. 
The  birch  had  been  brought  into  requisition,  and 
though  he  received  his  chastisement  with  an  air  of 
bravado,  and  declared  he  felt  no  pain,  it  is  evident 
that  he  stood  in  no  little  terror  of  its  application. 

More  important  than  his  studies  was  the  recurrent 
question,  as  the  boy  grew  older,  as  to  the  influences 
under  which  he  was  to  be  brought.  Of  the  King's 
desires  upon  this  point  there  can  be  no  doubt,  nor 
can  it  be  questioned  that  it  would  have  been  to  the 
one  friend  to  whom  he  gave  his  entire  confidence  that 


The  King  and  Sully  171 

he  would  have  wished  his  son  to  turn.  In  spite  of 
visits  to  the  Arsenal,  however,  the  same  dislike  of  Sully 
as  formerly  is  apparent  in  the  boy.  "  He  was  at  the 
Arsenal  three  or  four  days  ago,"  wrote  Malherbe.  "  I 
heard  a  gentleman  who  was  there  say  that  M.  de  Sully 
gave  him  a  great  reception  ;  but  that,  whatever  he  did, 
he  paid  him  no  attention,  and  scarcely  so  much  as 
looked  at  him." 

It  may  be  that  the  sentiments  instilled  and  fostered 
by  Louis's  early  training  were  supplemented  by  the 
jealousy  always  a  marked  feature  of  his  character. 
For  the  King's  affection  for  his  minister  was  ever 
strengthening.  Quarrels,  of  course,  continued  to  take 
place — with  a  man  so  hot-tempered  as  Henri  it  could 
not  have  been  otherwise  ;  and  Guidi,  always  bitterly 
hostile  to  the  Duke,  reported  one  such  incident  in 
particular  which  had  threatened  to  end  in  Sully's 
resignation.  The  King,  resenting  what  he  considered 
undue  favour  shown  by  the  minister  to  the  Guises,  had 
sent  to  remind  him  of  Biron,  and,  further,  had  hinted 
that  he  was  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Bastille,  where 
Auvergne  was  still  expiating  his  treason  in  captivity. 
The  violence  of  the  rebuke,  if  truly  reported,  stamped 
it  as  the  outcome  of  a  mood  of  blind  passion  ;  and  a 
few  days  later  all  was  as  before.  Guidi  might  continue 
to  believe  that  the  Duke's  favour  was  on  the  decline, 
and  remonstrate  with  the  Queen  for  acting  as  his 
protectress,  saying  she  was  nourishing  a  poisonous 
serpent  who  would  in  time  prove  a  danger  to  herself, 
the  Dauphin,  and  the  realm  ;  but  Guidi  was  a 
stranger,  and  saw  what  he  desired  to  see.  In  truth, 
the  Arsenal  was  more  and  more  becoming  to  the 


i?2  The  Making  of  a  King 

King  a  retreat,  where  he  could  find  a  refuge  from 
the  pomp  and  ceremony  inseparable  from  life  in  the 
palace,  from  the  need  of  guarding  his  lips  from  any 
word  capable  of  being  turned  to  his  disadvantage,  and 
from  the  private  annoyances  ever  recurrent  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  his  wife. 

"  You  are  the  only  man  to  whom  I  open  my  heart," 
he  wrote  to  the  minister  in  the  course  of  this  last 
autumn  of  his  life,  "  and  from  whose  counsels  1  draw 
most  comfort." 

That  same  autumn,  too,  he  was  present  when  the 
contract  of  marriage  between  young  Rosny  and 
Mademoiselle  de  Cr6quy  was  signed  ;  thus  showing 
that  he  owed  the  young  man  no  ill-will  for  his  refusal 
to  change  his  faith  at  his  dictation  in  order  to  wed 
his  own  daughter.  Both  King  and  Queen  affixed  their 
signatures  to  the  document,  "  which  was  all  that  passed," 
says  Malherbe,  "save  that  the  King  commanded  the 
lovers  to  kiss  each  other." 

Apart  from  the  wisdom  upon  which  Henri  had 
learnt  to  rely,  and  the  never-failing  sympathy  at 
his  service,  the  grave  statesman  was  capable,  to  a  re- 
markable extent,  of  adapting  himself  to  the  humour 
of  the  soldier  of  fortune  who  retained  to  the  end 
something  of  the  boy  ;  and  during  this  last  year  Henri 
had  shown  his  appreciation  of  the  entertainment  he 
found  at  the  Arsenal  by  causing  rooms  to  be  set  apart 
for  his  use  whensoever  he  should  be  disposed  to  lodge 
there  for  a  few  days.  On  these  occasions  no  officers 
of  his  household  were  to  accompany  him  ;  there  was 
to  be  none  of  the  burden  and  formality  of  State  ;  Sully 
providing  what  was  necessary  and  receiving  a  certain 


Henri  at  the  Arsenal  173 

sum  yearly  to  defray  the  expenses  of  his  royal 
guest. 

The  arrangement  had  come  about  in  an  unpre- 
meditated fashion.  On  a  certain  day  in  March  a 
lacquey  had  arrived  from  Chantilly,  where  Henri 
then  was,  with  a  note  from  his  master  to  bid  Sully 
expect  him  on  the  following  morning,  and  begging 
that  he  would  provide  dinner,  with  fish,  for  a  dozen 
persons. 

Sully  was  familiar  with  his  master's  tastes.  He 
made  ready  ragouts  such  as  Henri  loved  ;  and, 
moreover,  when  the  company  rose  from  table,  cards 
and  dice  were  produced,  with  a  purse  of  four  thousand 
pistoles  for  the  King,  and  a  like  sum,  as  a  loan,  to 
defray  the  gambling  expenses  of  his  attendants.  Henri 
showed  that  his  preferences  in  food  and  amusement 
had  been  correctly  divined. 

"  Come  and  embrace  me,  Grand-Mai tre,"  he  said, 
"  for  I  love  you,  as  I  ought,  and  I  am  so  well  pleased 
with  being  here  that  I  will  likewise  sup  and  sleep  ; 
for  I  will  not  go  to  the  Louvre  to-day,  for  reasons 
I  will  tell  you  when  I  have  finished  playing.'* 

He  would,  he  added,  take  a  drive,  and  desired  that, 
on  his  return,  he  should  find  no  one  at  the  Arsenal 
save  those  he  himself  brought  or  sent.  Nor  did  his 
satisfaction  end  here,  resulting  in  the  retreat  afforded 
by  the  Arsenal  being  made  at  all  times  available. 

No  doubt  Sully  was  proud  of  the  position  he  filled, 
and  possibly,  by  an  unwise  display  of  a  consciousness 
of  power,  he  threw  down  a  challenge  to  his  enemies 
they  were  not  slow,  as  soon  as  his  master  was  gone, 
to  take  up.  It  was  said  that  he  had  told  Queen 


174  The  Making  of  a  King 

Marguerite  that  she,  like  the  rest  of  France,  was  under 
his  jurisdiction ;  only  three  persons  being  exempt  from 
it,  namely,  the  King,  the  Queen,  and  the  Dauphin. 
"  Thus,"  added  Malherbe,  "  may  the  fortunate  speak  ; 
but  to  do  so  is  to  forget  nhe  power  of  Fortune,  and 
her  threats  of  last  winter." 

So  far  chance,  as  well  as  his  master,  had  favoured 
the  Duke,  and  an  incident  in  particular  which  might 
have  come  near  to  being  fatal  to  the  confidence  re- 
posed by  the  King  in  his  minister  had,  by  a  happy 
chance,  produced  the  opposite  effect,  and  had  turned 
to  Sully's  advantage.  The  facts  were  these.  Certain 
matters,  believed  by  Henri  to  have  been  mentioned 
by  him  to  the  minister  alone,  had  become  public 
property  ;  and,  in  spite  of  Sully's  asseveration,  upon 
oath,  that  he  had  not  been  guilty  of  divulging  them, 
it  was  hardly  possible  that  a  doubt  should  not  have 
remained  in  his  master's  mind,  not  of  his  friend's 
fidelity,  but  of  his  discretion  and  prudence.  The 
affair  was  in  this  condition  when,  by  a  piece  of 
singular  good  luck,  it  was  placed  in  the  Duke's  power 
to  clear  himself  from  all  suspicion  and  to  bring  home 
the  guilt  to  the  true  culprit.  A  letter  addressed  by 
the  King's  friend  and  confessor,  Cotton,  to  a  brother 
Jesuit  came  into  the  minister's  possession  ;  wherein 
was  contained  all  the  information  in  question.  Putting 
the  incriminating  document  into  Henri's  hands  at  their 
next  meeting,  Sully  made  his  justification.  It  was 
entirely  successful.  Unable  to  deny  that  he  had 
spoken  openly  to  the  priest,  the  King,  after  reading 
the  letter  twice  over,  made  a  significant  comment  upon 
its  contents. 


Pfcre  Cotton  175 

"  I  confess,"  he  said,  "  that  there  is  more  of  loyalty 
and  honour  in  you,  and  of  truth  in  your  words — wicked 
Huguenot  that  you  are — than  in  many  Catholics,  even 
ecclesiastics,  devout  and  scrupulous  as  they  appear. 
And  I  will  say  no  more  to  you  upon  this  subject." 

Whether  by  reason  of  his  indiscretion  or  from 
other  causes,  the  influence  of  Pere  Cotton  suffered, 
according  to  Guidi,  a  temporary  eclipse.  It  did  not 
prove  lasting ;  and,  having  gone  twice  running 
to  hear  Mass  in  the  Jesuit  church,  the  King  gave 
those  about  him  to  understand  that  it  had  not  been 
done  without  a  purpose,  but  "  that  the  world  might 
know  that  he  loved  Pere  Cotton  and  his  Order  more 
than  ever." 


CHAPTER   XIV 
1609 — 10 

Henri  and  Mademoiselle  de  Montmorency — The  King's  desire  for 
domestic  peace  —  His  forebodings  —  Henri  and  his  son  —  The 
Infanta's  portrait — Chances  of  war— Sully  and  the  Dauphin. 

ON  March  2,  1610,  the  Dauphin  was  present  at  a 
ceremony  forming  part  of  an  episode  displaying 
the  King  in  his  least  worthy  aspect.  This  was  the 
betrothal,  to  be  followed  shortly  by  the  marriage,  of 
the  Prince  de  Conde  and  Charlotte  de  Montmorency, 
daughter  of  the  Constable  who  had  refused  to  allow 
his  family  shield  to  be  blemished  by  a  match  between 
his  son  and  the  King's  daughter. 

The  story  of  Henri's  latest  passion,  his  infatuation 
for  young  Bassompierre's  destined  bride,  scarcely 
emerged  from  childhood,  is  too  well  known  to  call  for 
more  than  a  passing  notice.  Bassompierre,  a  courtier 
by  profession  and  taste,  warned  that  he  had  to  choose 
between  his  promised  wife  and  the  King's  favour,  made 
little  difficulty  in  relinquishing  his  claim  to  the  first  ; 
and  Henri  bestowed  her  upon  his  cousin,  Conde,  first 
Prince  of  the  Blood,  counting  upon  the  young  man's 
indifference  to  throw  no  obstacle  in  his  path  ;  and 
anticipating  that  Conde,  ill-favoured,  of  bad  reputation, 
and  addicted  to  wine,  would  not  prove  a  formidable 

rival  in  the  girl's  affections. 

176 


The  King's  Troubles  177 

And  yet  it  is  singular  that,  almost  at  this  moment, 
Henri  had  been  contemplating  the  possibility  of  a 
compromise  whereby,  if  Marie  de  Medicis  would,  for 
her  part,  agree  to  the  dismissal  of  her  Italian  favourites, 
he  would  himself  engage  to  give  her  no  further  cause 
for  complaint.  Whether  he  would,  at  this  stage, 
have  kept  his  pledge  is  questionable ;  that  it  was 
offered  in  good  faith  cannot  be  doubted.  Weary  of 
a  continual  condition  of  domestic  strife,  he  was  un- 
feignedly  anxious  to  arrange  a  basis  of  agreement. 

If  this  ultimate  phase  of  a  great  man's  existence  is 
painful  to  those  to  whom  he  is  a  hero,  it  was  probably 
in  many  ways  no  less  painful  to  the  hero  himself.  To 
Henri's  happiness  love  and  approval  were,  as  some  one 
has  pointed  out,  specially  necessary  ;  and  the  sense  that 
by  many  of  those  around  him  he  was  neither  loved  nor 
approved  cannot  have  failed  to  be  bitter.  Underlying, 
too,  his  natural  gaiety,  was  the  melancholy  not  seldom 
accompanying  it,  and  the  latter  at  times  gained  the 
upper  hand.  To  Montigny  and  Cicogne,  two  of  his 
friends  and  companions,  he  once  said  that  he  would 
rather  be  dead  ;  and  when  they  strove  to  prove  how 
small  was  his  reason  for  desiring  death,  he  remained 
unconvinced. 

"  You  are  happier  than  I,"  he  told  them. 

Troubled  in  mind  and  spirit,  he  was  oppressed  by 
public  as  well  as  domestic  cares.  Rumours  of  intrigues 
with  Spain  disquieted  him  the  more  owing  to  their 
vagueness.  Concini  and  his  wife  were  known  to  be 
in  communication  with  the  enemy  ;  hints  were  thrown 
out  of  other  traitors  whose  names  were  withheld. 
Who  was  false,  who  true  ?  Who  could  tell  ?  That 

12 


The  Making  of  a  King 

the  Queen's  sympathies  were  increasingly  enlisted  on  the 
Spanish  side  was  certain.  More  and  more  the  marriage 
scheme  had  possession  of  her  mind.  An  alliance  with 
his  old  antagonist,  to  replace  his  engagements  with 
Protestant  princes,  was  urged  upon  the  King,  and  whilst 
he  was  firm  in  adherence  to  his  pledges,  the  difference  of 
opinion  between  himself  and  his  wife  on  a  question 
of  vital  importance  will  have  accentuated  their  chronic 
condition  of  discord.  The  distrust  of  her  husband 
with  which  the  Queen  had  been  inspired  by  the 
Concini  had  increased  to  so  great  a  degree  that  she 
entertained  suspicions  wounding  alike  to  his  honour 
and  to  his  good  sense  ;  declined  to  eat  what  he  sent 
her  from  his  table,  and  even  caused  her  food  to  be 
prepared  in  the  apartments  of  the  Italian  couple. 

Swayed  by  the  influence  of  her  favourites,  Marie 
was  also  bent  upon  obtaining  from  the  King  that  which 
she  had  long  desired — namely,  her  own  coronation,  to 
be  accompanied  by  every  adjunct  of  ceremonial  magnifi- 
cence, with  the  object  of  finally  asserting  her  position 
and  that  of  her  children,  and  of  making  it  known  to 
the  world. 

This  last  demand  was  both  comprehensible  and 
pardonable.  That  she  was  still,  after  more  than  ten 
years  of  marriage,  uncrowned,  might  have  supplied 
a  weapon  to  be  used  against  her  in  hostile  hands. 
War  was  imminent ;  the  King  was  to  be  once  more  in 
the  field,  and  Marie  was  to  fill  the  place  of  Regent  in 
his  absence.  It  was  of  the  last  importance  that  no 
shadow  of  doubt  should  be  allowed  to  rest  upon  her 
position.  That  she  was  not  to  possess  undivided 
authority,  but  was  to  share  it  with  a  Council  of  State, 


Apprehensions  of  Disaster  179 

was  regarded  by  her  as  an  insult,  and  she  was  the 
more  urgent  in  requiring  that  her  Sacre  should  take 
place  before  Henri  quitted  Paris. 

With  this  demand,  reasonable  though  it  was,  the 
King  was  most  unwilling  to  comply.  In  spite  of 
his  sagacity  and  shrewdness,  reiterated  warnings  of 
coming  calamity  had  made  their  impression  upon  his 
mind.  He  was  haunted  by  the  memory  of  prophecies 
according  to  which  he  was  not  destined  to  survive  his 
fifty-eighth  year  ;  and  was  oppressed  in  particular  by 
forebodings  that,  should  he  yield  to  the  Queen's  im- 
portunities and  permit  her  coronation  to  take  place, 
misfortune  would  ensue. 

It  was  in  this  mood  of  melancholy  that  the  idea  of 
restoring  domestic  concord  by  means  of  mutual  con- 
cession had  occurred  to  him.  Nothing  came  of  it ; 
Marie  did  not  close  with  his  offer,  and  a  last  and 
disgraceful  chapter  was  unhappily  to  be  added  to 
his  record.  The  true  tragedy  was  not  the  catastrophe 
of  May  14,  1610.  The  day  that  Ravaillac's  knife 
did  its  work  was  no  more  than  the  consummation,  the 
climax,  of  the  tragedy  enacted  during  Henri's  last  years, 
when  the  greatness  of  the  great  King  had  struggled 
for  mastery  with  his  littleness,  and  the  last  had  not 
seldom  got  the  upper  hand  ;  when,  to  quote  Michelet, 
the  man,  "  loved  and  lovable,  whose  strength  was 
invoked  by  all  the  world,  but  in  whom  the  principle 
of  duty  was  absent,  and  who  was  weak  and  changeable, 
declined  and  sank."  Irresponsible,  strangely  devoid 
of  the  moral  sense,  one  questions  whether  he  was  so 
much  as  conscious  of  his  fall.  Of  that  fall  the  episode 
rhich  filled  so  important  a  place  in  the  history  of 


i8o  The  Making  of  a  King 

his  last  year  was  proof,  had  proof  been  needed.  Duty, 
morality,  pride,  dignity,  self-respect,  were  all  to  be 
sacrificed  to  an  emotion.  It  must  have  been  difficult 
even  for  those  who  loved  him,  and  they  were  many, 
not  to  feel  something  approaching  to  contempt. 

Where  public  matters  did  not  conflict  with  his 
personal  interests  he  continued  firm,  refusing  to  yield 
to  the  pressure  brought  to  bear  upon  him  in  reference 
to  the  disposal  of  his  children.  Madame,  if  he 
could  compass  it,  was  to  become  the  wife  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales — a  gallant  lad  who  talked  of  nothing 
but  learning  the  art  of  war  under  Henri  himself;  the 
Dauphin  was  destined  to  be  married  to  the  heiress  of 
Lorraine,  and  in  the  summer  young  Bassompierre 
was  dispatched  on  a  secret  embassy  with  the  object  of 
sounding  the  Duke,  her  father,  on  the  subject.  The 
King,  as  it  fell  out,  was  to  have  no  voice  in  the 
settlement  of  these  matters. 

"  I  pray  God,"  he  told  Louis,  as  he  drank  to  him 
on  his  eighth  birthday,  "  I  pray  God  that,  in  twenty 
years'  time,  I  may  be  able  to  give  you  the  whip." 

"Pas,  s'il  vous  plait,"  was  the  Dauphin's  reply. 

u  What !  "  said  the  King  in  mock  protest,  "  You 
would  not  have  me  able  to  give  it  to  you  ?  " 

"  Pas,  s'il  vous  plait,"  repeated  the  child. 

There  was  no  fear  of  it.  Eight  months  later 
Henri  was  dead. 

In  graver  moods  the  King  would  look  on  to  the 
future,  when  he  would  have  been  removed  from  the 
scene  of  action,  and  would  make  his  forecasts  as  to 
the  course  of  events.  Calling  his  wife,  in  jesting  fashion, 
Madame  la  Regente,  he  admitted,  in  answer  to  her 


Henri's  Forecast  181 

protests,  that  she  might  be  right  in  desiring,  in  her 
own  interest,  the  lengthening  of  his  life.  The  words 
were  spoken  when,  once  more,  his  will  had  been 
brought  into  collision  with  that  of  his  heir,  and  he  had 
again  recognised  the  strain  of  obstinacy  in  the  boy's 
nature. 

The  quarrel  had  taken  place  over  a  mere  trifle — 
a  question  of  jumping  over  a  ditch  a  foot  and  a  half 
wide  in  the  park  at  Fontainebleau.  The  boy  had 
leapt  it  standing,  without  "  making  any  difficulty. 
Bidden  by  his  father  to  attempt  it  running,  he  answered 
by  a  dogged  refusal  ;  afraid  lest,  miscalculating  his 
distance,  he  should  fall  in  and  become  an  object  of 
the  derision  from  which  he  shrank  with  the  sensitive- 
ness not  uncommon  in  children.  The  King,  unused 
to  disobedience,  was  roused  to  anger  so  violent 
that,  had  he  not  been  prevented,  he  would  have  im- 
mersed the  boy  in  the  water  ;  but  all  was  of  no  avail. 
Threatened  with  the  whip,  Louis  replied  that  he 
would  prefer  it  to  taking  the  required  leap  ;  accepting 
his  punishment — administered  in  spite  of  a  tardy  offer 
of  compliance — with  defiance  and  protesting  that  he 
was  not  hurt. 

In  the  scene  which  followed  between  King  and  Queen 
Henri  gave  utterance  to  a  prediction  as  to  the  future 
awaiting  his  wife. 

"  You  wept,"  he  told  her  sternly,  "  because  I  have 
had  your  son  whipped  a  little  severely.  You  will  one 
day  weep  much  more  for  his  misfortunes  or  for  your 
own.  .  .  .  Of  one  thing  I  can  assure  you — that  you 
being  of  the  temper  I  know,  and  foreseeing  what  will 
his — you  being  self-willed,  not  to  say  headstrong, 


1 82  The  Making  of  a  King 

and  he  stubborn,  you  will  certainly  have  a  bone  to  pick 
with  one  another." 

In  which  Henri  was  to  prove,  to  Marie  de  Medicis' 
cost,  right. 

If,  with  regard  to  his  heir,  Henri's  system  of  dis- 
cipline was  sharp,  he  acted  with  deliberate  intention. 
His  other  children,  Marie  once  complained,  would  not 
have  been  treated  with  a  like  severity  ;  nor  did  he 
deny  the  charge,  giving  his  reasons  for  what  might  wear 
the  guise  of  injustice.  Should  they  play  the  fool,  he 
said,  they  would  not  escape  punishment.  No  one 
would  whip  the  Dauphin. 

During  these  last  years  of  Henri's  life  the  struggle 
of  contending  aims  at  Court  found  expression  in  the 
fact  that,  in  spite  of  his  well-known  sentiments,  efforts 
were  persistently  renewed  to  rouse  and  keep  alive 
Louis's  interest  in  the  Infanta.  Did  he  not  consider 
her  beautiful  ?  asked  the  Marquis  de  Gudalesta,  visit- 
ing the  Dauphin  on  the  way  to  Spain.  Would  he  not 
like  to  possess  her  portrait  ? 

Though  answering  politely  in  the  affirmative,  the  boy 
was  careful  to  reassert  his  loyalty  to  national  traditions. 
His  heart,  he  added,  was  French.  Yet,  notwithstand- 
ing the  proviso,  the  attempts  of  his  mother  and  her 
friends  to  instil  their  ideas  into  his  mind  had  not  been 
fruitless." 

"  There  is  my  wife,"  he  told  his  playmates  one  day, 
as  he  pointed  to  a  picture  of  Anne  hanging  in  the 
Queen's  chamber.  "  One  must  go  and  take  her," 
he  said,  when  M.  de  Souvre  observed  that  the  Spaniards 
might  not  consent  to  surrender  their  Princess. 


Concte's  Marriage  183 

Meantime,  the  engagement  of  the  Prince  de  Conde 
and  Mademoiselle  de  Montmorency  had  been  followed 
by  their  marriage,  notwithstanding  certain  misgivings 
as  to  the  future  which  had  caused  the  bridegroom-elect 
to  suggest  to  the  King  that  the  arrangement  should  be 
cancelled.  Henri  had  been  fully  determined  to  carry 
it  out ;  the  Prince,  poor,  young,  of  doubtful  legitimacy, 
and  accustomed  to  maintain  an  attitude  of  submissive 
docility  towards  the  King,  was  in  no  position  to  assert 
his  independence  ;  and,  reassured  by  Henri,  he  con- 
sented to  allow  matters  to  proceed.  The  wedding 
accordingly  took  place  quietly  at  Chantilly,  the  bride's 
home,  during  the  month  of  May. 

Not  many  weeks  had  elapsed  before  the  Prince's 
apprehensions  were  justified,  and  it  had  been  made 
plain  to  him  that,  were  his  wife's  honour  to  be  safe- 
guarded, she  would  be  best  kept  at  a  distance  from 
Court.  Showing  more  spirit  than  had  been  expected  of 
him,  he  acted  upon  this  conviction,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  both  the  Princess  herself  and  her  father,  dazzled 
by  the  possibilities  contained  in  the  King's  passion, 
testified  a  disposition  to  play  into  Henri's  hands,  and 
a  paper  demanding  that  the  marriage  should  be  annulled 
received  the  signature  of  the  bride. 

The  King's  indignation  at  Conde's  conduct  was  as 
great  as  if  he  had  undoubted  right  on  his  side. 

"  I  beg  you  to  believe,"  he  wrote  to  the  Constable  in 
June,  "  that  my  nephew,  your  son-in-law,  behaves  like 
the  devil  here.  It  will  be  necessary  that  you  and  I 
should  speak  to  him  together,  so  that  he  may  be 
good." 

Conde  was  in  no  wise  disposed  to  amend  his  ways  to 


184  The  Making  of  a  King 

suit  the  King's  humour.  By  November  Henri's  folly 
had  reached  such  a  height  that,  despairing  of  bringing 
him  to  reason,  the  Prince  had  taken  the  strong  measure 
of  removing  his  wife  from  temptation  by  carrying  her 
off  to  Landrecies  and  placing  himself  under  the  pro- 
tection of  the  Archduke,  representative  of  the  King's 
irreconcilable  Spanish  foes. 

The  step  could  not  fail  to  rouse  Henri  to  fierce 
anger.  The  world-wide  publicity  given  to  a  private 
scandal  to  which  he  must  have  felt  that  disgrace 
attached  ;  the  fact  that  it  was  in  hostile  territory  that 
his  cousin  had  taken  refuge — all  combined  to  em- 
bitter his  wrath  ;  and  his  resentment  was  great 
towards  the  Power  that  had  afforded  shelter  to  the 
fugitives.  To  attribute,  as  some  authorities  are  inclined 
to  do,  his  decision  to  enter  upon  a  European  war  to  a 
frustrated  intrigue  is,  however,  another  matter  ;  and 
is,  to  say  the  least,  a  manifest  exaggeration.  He  was 
ready  for  war  ;  Sully  was  ready  for  war  ;  the  finances 
of  the  country  admitted  of  it  ;  and  though  the  episode 
may  have  served  to  precipitate  matters,  it  can  have  done 
no  more. 

Two  parties,  of  course,  existed  in  the  State — a  war 
and  a  peace  party — the  men  who  would  have  encouraged 
the  King  to  pass  his  days  in  the  inglorious  pursuit  of 
pleasure  and  those  who,  like  Sully,  contrasting  his 
brilliant  past  with  what  had  followed  it,  would  have  had 
their  master  vindicate  his  old  reputation,  and,  almost 
singlehanded — a  twelve  years'  truce  had  been  concluded 
between  Spain  and  the  Netherlands — show  that  he  was 
still  the  victor  of  Ivry  and  could  withstand  the  tyranny 
the  house  of  Austria  was  seeking  to  establish. 


From  an  engraving  by  I'.  Audonin,  after  the  picture  by  Pourbus. 

HENRI    IV. 
P.  184] 


War  Expected  185 

A  singular  conversation  is  recorded,  when  Henri 
took  Sully's  advice  as  to  the  two  courses  open  to 
him  ;  the  minister  assuring  him,  as  he  recommended 
the  harder  and  steeper  path,  that  should  he  elect  to 
tread  it  and  to  declare  war,  sufficient  funds  were  avail- 
able to  supply  an  army  of  forty  thousand  men  for  three 
years,  without  fresh  taxes. 

"  Not  wishing  to  interrupt  you,"  the  King  asked, 
"how  much  money  do  I  possess,  for  I  have  never 
known  ?  " 

"  Guess,  Sire,"  replied  the  Minister  of  Finance. 
"  How  much  do  you  think  you  have  ?  " 

"  Twelve  millions  ? "  hazarded  Henri. 

"  A  little  more,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Fourteen  ? "  said  the  King,  raising  the  figure  two 
millions  at  a  time,  until,  when  the  sum  of  thirty  had 
been  reached,  he  embraced  the  Duke  and  refused  to 
go  further. 

It  was  a  proud  moment  for  Sully  as,  demonstrating 
the  amplitude  of  the  funds  at  his  disposal,  he  unfolded 
the  great  schemes  he  cherished.  They  might  have 
been  carried  out  had  Ravaillac  not  intervened.  One 
imagines  that  the  heart  of  the  great  soldier  must  have 

irnt  within  him  as  he  contemplated  the  possibilities 

war  would  afford.  But  a  death  on  the  battle-field 
ras  to  be  denied  him. 

War    was    plainly  a    necessity,  unless  the  house  of 

.ustria  was  to  be  permitted  to  establish  the  autocracy 
;o  which  it  aspired.  The  death  of  the  Duke  of  Cleves 
had  left,  in  Henri's  phrase,  all  the  world  heir  to  his 
rich  inheritance.  In  the  absence  of  any  one  with  a 
direct  and  undisputed  right  to  the  provinces  he  had 


1 86  The  Making  of  a  King 

possessed,  both  the  Emperor  and  certain  of  the  German 
Protestant  princes  laid  claim  to  them.  It  was  not 
difficult  to  foresee  that  the  matter  would  not  be  de- 
cided without  recourse  to  arms,  and  to  Henri  the 
opponents  of  Spain  looked,  as  to  their  natural  leader. 
In  spite  of  less  worthy  preoccupations,  the  King  was 
deeply  concerned  with  the  question  of  the  future. 
Sully  was  equally  anxious  ;  and  there  were  long  con- 
versations between  the  two  when,  leaning  on  the 
balcony  at  the  Arsenal  which  overlooked  the  Seine  and 
a  large  part  of  Paris,  the  King  no  doubt  discussed 
with  the  minister  the  chances  of  the  approaching 
struggle.  Would  the  United  Netherlands  again  throw 
themselves  into  the  conflict  ?  What  would  be  the 
attitude  of  the  new  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany,  who, 
on  succeeding  his  father,  had  lost  no  time  in  displaying 
his  Spanish  proclivities  ? 

With  regard  to  such  matters,  King  and  minister 
must  have  been  for  the  most  part  in  full  accord.  Yet, 
if  Malherbe  is  to  be  believed,  and  there  is  no  reason 
to  doubt  it,  a  serious  quarrel  took  place  at  this  very 
time  between  them,  caused,  on  this  occasion,  by  a  less 
creditable  feature  in  Sully's  character  than  the  un- 
compromising rectitude  which  had  at  other  times 
brought  him  into  collision  with  his  master.  A  certain 
office  had  fallen  vacant,  and  Sully,  having  demanded 
the  disposal  of  it,  was  referred  by  the  King  to  young 
Vendome  and  his  mother-in-law,  to  whom  it  had 
been  already  awarded,  and  who  consented  at  once  to 
relinquish  their  claims.  Annoyed  that  the  boy  had 
treated  a  matter  of  importance  so  lightly,  Henri  ex- 
pressed his  displeasure  ;  whereupon  Vendome  retorted 


A  Quarrel  with  Sully  187 

that  M.  de  Sully  was  too  powerful  to  be  refused,  and 
that,  had  the  post  in  question  been  worth  double, 
he  would  have  handed  it  over  to  him.  A  quarrel 
with  the  Duke  followed,  and  the  King,  entering  his 
wife's  apartment,  gave  vent  to  his  irritation.  Sully, 
he  said,  had  at  last  made  himself  insufferable,  and 
could  no  longer  be  borne  with.  Once  more  the  hopes 
of  those  who  hated  the  minister  were  raised.  Once 
more  they  were  destined  to  be  dashed  to  the  ground. 
"  On  the  morrow,"  records  Malherbe,  "  the  King 
gave  him  a  better  reception  than  ever." 

In  another  direction  Henri  had  at  length  made 
what  appeared  to  be  a  permanent  break  with  his  past. 
Whether  Madame  de  Verneuil  would  ever  have 
regained  her  ascendancy  cannot  be  determined.  For 
the  time  she  had  lost  it.  In  the  same  letter  which 
mentions  the  passing  quarrel  with  Sully,  the  poet 
stated  that  the  Marquise  had  been  a  month  at  a  village 
not  more  than  a  league  from  Paris,  but  that  no  meeting 
had  taken  place  between  her  and  the  King.  Her  day 
was  over.  Did  she,  or  did  she  not,  avenge  herself 
by  making  once  again  common  cause  with  his  enemies  ? 
The  question  has  never  been  satisfactorily  answered. 

In  addition  to  cares  of  State  ;  to  the  necessity  of 
taking  thought  for  the  coming  campaign ;  to  the 
resistance  he  was  opposing  to  the  pressure  brought 
to  bear  upon  him  by  his  wife  and  others  with  regard 
to  the  Spanish  proposals  ;  to  private  annoyances 
and  vexations,  Henri  was  also,  as  ever,  ceaselessly 
confronted  by  the  spectre  of  treachery.  Stories — some 
false,  some  true — were  afloat.  A  book  in  gilt  binding 
and  containing  signatures  written  in  blood  had  been 


1 88  The  Making  of  A  King 

caught  sight  of.  Quickly  concealed,  it  had  not  become 
known  to  what  the  signatories  were  pledged ;  but 
sinister  explanations  were  suggested.  And,  again,  a 
band  of  men,  armed  and  mgunted,  were  said  to  have 
been  seen  in  the  forest  near  Saint-Germain.  Taken 
separately,  such  rumours  might  have  been  disregarded. 
Viewed  in  conjunction  with  other  circumstances,  and 
interpreted  by  the  light  of  current  prophecies,  they 
were  not  without  their  effect  upon  men's  minds  and 
nerves. 

The  year  1610  was  come.  It  was  the  last  spring 
that  father  and  son  were  to  spend  together ;  and, 
pending  the  separation  the  coming  campaign  would 
bring,  it  is  evident  that  they  were  constant  companions. 
The  subject  of  the  projected  war  was  in  all  men's 
thoughts,  and  was  freely  discussed  in  the  schoolroom 
at  the  Louvre. 

"  If  the  King,  my  father,  should  go  to  Flanders, 
would  the  King  of  Spain  seize  upon  France  ? "  asked 
the  Dauphin,  interrupting  a  lesson  in  history  to  apply 
its  teaching  to  questions  of  more  immediate  interest. 

"  What  insolence!"  he  exclaimed,  another  time,  when 
the  Chevalier  de  Vendome,  bragging,  asserted  that  he 
alone  was  to  accompany  the  King  to  the  field  of  battle. 
"None  but  he  to  go  !  "  It  would  be  seen  that  it 
would  be  otherwise — that  Louis  himself  would  ride 
forth  on  the  white  horse  given  him  by  M.  le  Grand, 
and  would  take  the  Prince  de  Conde  prisoner. 

Pending  the  opportunity  of  sharing  in  practical 
warfare,  the  Dauphin  was  fain  to  be  content  with 
playing  with  his  toy  soldiers  at  home. 


The  Dauphin's  Training  189 

"  You  will  always  be  a  child,  Monsieur,"  Souvre  told 
him  once. 

"  It  is  you  who  keep  me  one,"  retorted  the  boy, 
with  anger. 

The  charge  was  more  likely  to  be  true  of  others 
than  of  the  gouverneur.  Souvre  was  plainly  anxious, 
now  and  afterwards — perhaps  over-anxious — to  induce 
his  pupil  to  put  away  childish  things.  But  there  were 
doubtless  those,  especially  at  a  later  date,  who  would 
have  preferred  that  Louis  should  confine  his  attention 
to  toys  rather  than  direct  it  to  matters  of  greater 
importance.  In  some  degree  and  measure  they  were 
successful,  but  if  he  was  childish  in  some  respects,  he 
was  not  without  considerable  natural  intelligence, 
and  was  keenly  observant  of  what  went  on  around 
him.  He  might  resign  himself,  for  the  time,  to  be 
ruled  "by  those  placed  over  him  ;  he  looked  forward, 
none  the  less,  to  a  day  of  emancipation. 

As  he  lay  in  bed,  apparently  engrossed  by  the 
miniature  engines  with  which  he  was  playing,  he 
listened  to  a  dispute  between  Madame  de  Montglat, 
representing  the  past,  and  M.  de  Souvre,  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  present ;  his  comment  indicating  the  trend 
of  his  reflections. 

"  I  may  say,"  asserted  the  ex-gouvernante,  "  that 
Monseigneur  the  Dauphin  belongs  to  me.  The  King 
gave  him  to  me  at  his  birth,  saying,  *  Madame  de 
Montglat,  here  is  my  son,  whom  I  give  you.  Take 
him.'  " 

"  He  belonged  to  you  for  a  time,"  admitted  Souvre. 
"  Now  he  is  mine." 

"  And  I  hope,"  put  in  the  small  bone  of  contention 


190  The  Making  of  a  King 

without  raising  his  voice  or- intermitting  his  occupa- 
tion, "  I  hope  that  one  day  I  may  be  my  own." 

Again  and  again,  during  these  last  months  of  his 
father's  life,  his  old  dislike  of  Sully  is  displayed.  At 
the  Arsenal  he  was  a  frequent  visitor,  at  the 
Arsenal  he  made  his  first  appearance  in  a  public 
ballet,  dancing  before  the  assembled  Court  ;  but 
to  Sully  personally  he  was  as  ungracious  as  before, 
notwithstanding  the  minister's  evident  wish  to  pro- 
pitiate the  good-will  of  his  master's  son. 

"  Monsieur,  would  you  like  some  money  ? "  he 
asked  his  little  guest  as  he  was  walking  in  the  garden 
one  spring  day.  "  But  tell  me  if  you  would,"  he 
urged,  as  the  boy  answered  contemptuously  in  the 
negative. 

"  If  you  wish  to  give  any,  let  it  be  taken  to  M.  de 
Souvre,"  answered  Louis  coldly,  refusing  to  accept  the 
personal  favour,  and  gathering  some  blossoming  sprays 
from  a  tree  near  at  hand. 

The  Duke  declined  to  be  discouraged. 

"  When  you  come  here  again,  Monsieur,"  he  said, 
"  you  will  find  a  hundred  purses  full  of  crown  pieces 
upon  that  tree  which  you  admire." 

"  It  will  be  a  fine  tree,"  answered  the  boy  in- 
differently, without  giving  it  a  glance. 

"  C'est  un  glorieux,"  he  said,  angered  by  the  ex- 
clusion of  some  of  his  attendants  from  an  entertain- 
ment at  the  Arsenal. 

Louis  was  wrong.  Sully  was  no  braggart.  If  he 
was  proud  he  had  much  to  be  proud  of.  The  end  of 
his  wise  administration,  the  close  of  the  toil  that  had 
done  so  much  for  France  and  for  its  King  was  at  hand. 


CHAPTER   XV 
1610 

The  spring  of  1610 — Predictions  of  evil — The  Queen's  approaching 
Sacre — Henri's  fears — Omens  of  misfortune — Marie  de  Medicis 
crowned  at  Saint-Denis. 

THAT  spring  of  1610,  as  it  advanced,  was  a  time 
of  excitement  and  unrest.  The  air  was  full  of 
contradictory  expectations  and  reports.  All  had  been 
made  ready  for  a  great  and  decisive  struggle  for 
European  supremacy.  The  combatants  stood  over 
against  each  other,  leaning  as  it  were  upon  their  swords, 
until  the  signal  should  be  given  for  the  fight  to  begin. 
Men,  in  all  lands,  were  looking  forward,  with  hope 
and  fear,  to  the  result. 

At  Paris,  and  throughout  France,  a  curious  sense  of 
uncertainty  prevailed,  and  a  consciousness  of  impending 
disaster  was  widely  diffused.  The  atmosphere  was 
thick  with  prophecies  of  evil.  It  was  pre-eminently 
an  age  of  soothsayers,  and  reiterated  forecasts  of 
calamity  were  remembered  when  the  blow  had  fallen 
and  the  King  was  dead.  Nor  can  it  be  denied  that 
a  singular  unanimity  prevailed,  amongst  the  seers  who 
claimed  to  interpret  omens  and  to  discern  the  future, 
as  to  some  danger,  now  vague,  now  more  sharply 
defined,  overhanging  France  and  its  King. 

191 


i92  The  Making  of  a  King 

More  and  more  was  the  King's  mind  becoming 
clouded  by  presentiments  of  doom,  by  forebodings 
that,  so  far  as  he  was  personally  concerned,  the  pre- 
parations for  war  would  be  fruitless. 

"  I  know  not  why,"  he  once  said  to  Bassompierre, 
"  but  I  cannot  persuade  myself  that  I  shall  go  to 
Germany,"  and  to  others  besides  Bassompierre  he  spoke 
on  several  occasions  of  his  conviction  that  death  was 
near.  Most  of  all  to  Sully  he  opened  his  mind  on  the 
subject. 

"  Ah,  my  friend,"  he  would  say,  "  how  displeasing  to 
me  is  this  Sucre  \  I  know  not  why,  but  my  heart 
warns  me  that  evil  will  come  of  it." 

Seating  himself  in  a  low  chair  provided  for  his  use 
in  the  minister's  apartment  at  the  Arsenal,  he  sank  into 
a  melancholy  reverie  ;  then,  rousing  himself,  he  rose 
suddenly  to  his  feet. 

"  By  God  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  I  shall  die  in  this  city, 
and  shall  never  leave  it.  They  will  kill  me,  for  well  do 
I  see  that  my  death  is  the  only  remedy  to  the  danger 
that  threatens  them.  Cursed  Sacre,  you  will  be  the 
cause  of  my  death  !  " 

Impressed,  in  spite  of  himself,  by  the  strength  of  the 
King's  apprehensions,  the  Duke,  though  attempting  to 
make  light  of  them  as  mere  fancies,  suggested  that, 
under  the  circumstances,  it  might  be  well  to  put  an  end 
not  only  to  the  dreaded  ceremonial  but  to  the  war, 
the  King's  journey — all.  Let  Henri  give  the  word  and 
it  should  be  done. 

With  regard  at  least  to  the  coronation,  it  seemed 
that  Henri  was  disposed  at  one  moment  to  act  on  the 
suggestion.  Were  the  Sacre  abandoned,  his  mind 


Henri's  Forebodings  193 

would  be  at  rest,  and  he  would  start  for  the  war 
fearing  nought.  "  For,  to  hide  nothing  from  you,"  he 
said,  opening  his  heart  entirely  to  his  friend,  "  I  have 
been  told  that  I  shall  be  killed  at  my  first  great  cere- 
monial, and  that  I  shall  die  in  a  coach.  It  is  this  which 
renders  me  so  fearful/' 

More  and  more  infected  by  the  King's  misgivings, 
Sully  proposed  a  new  plan.  Let  Henri  leave  Paris  at 
once,  on  the  morrow,  neither  returning  to  the  capital 
nor  entering  a  coach  for  a  prolonged  period,  The 
Duke  was  ready  to  cause  all  the  workmen  employed 
in  preparations  to  cease  from  their  labours. 

Henri  hesitated. 

"  I  am  willing  enough,"  he  admitted,  "  but  what  will 
my  wife  say  ?  She  is  wonderfully  bent  upon  this 
Sacrer 

"  Let  her  say  what  she  will,"  answered  Sully  bluntly  ; 
he  could  not  believe  that,  aware  how  the  King  re- 
garded the  matter,  she  would  persist  in  her  desire. 

Henri  knew  better.  Unable  to  face  what  would 
follow  should  the  minister's  advice  be  taken,  he  decided 
to  allow  the  affair  to  take  its  course,  and  the  workmen 
continued  their  operations. 

The  ceremony  was  to  take  place  on  Thursday, 
May  13.  On  the  ensuing  Monday,  when  the  solemnities 
following  upon  it  were  concluded,  Henri  was  to  start 
for  the  seat  of  war.  He  had  written  to  the  Arch- 
duke formally  announcing  his  intention  of  assisting 
his  allies  in  the  vindication  of  their  rights  in  the  matter 
of  the  succession  of  Cleves  and  Juliers,  and  asking 
whether,  since  his  route  lay  through  Flanders,  he  was 

enter  that  territory  as  friend  or  as  enemy.     All  was 


194  The  Making  of  a  King 

completed  ;  the  troops  were  already  on  the  march. 
The  great  soldier  was  once  again  to  take  the  field. 
There  was  nothing  more  to  wait  for  save  the  Sacre. 

As  the  day  appointed  for^it  approached  the  spirit  of 
uneasiness  and  unrest  abroad  continued.  On  May 
Day  the  King,  returning  with  Guise  and  Bassompierre 
from  the  Tuileries  to  the  Louvre,  quitted  his  com- 
panions for  a  few  minutes  in  order  to  hasten  the  Queen 
in  dressing  for  dinner,  lest  he  should  be  kept  waiting. 

Pending  his  return,  the  two  were  leaning  idly  over 
the  balustrade  overlooking  the  courtyard  of  the  palace, 
when  the  "  mai  "  set  up  in  the  centre  of  it  crashed 
down  without  apparent  cause  and  lay  pointing  towards 
the  small  staircase  leading  to  the  King's  apartment. 

Bassompierre,  with  a  strain  of  German  blood  in  his 
veins  and  inclined  to  superstition,  called  the  attention 
of  Guise  to  the  fallen  branches. 

"  I  would  give  much  that  it  had  not  happened,"  he 
told  him.  "  It  is  a  very  ill  omen.  God  protect  the 
King — the  *  mai '  of  the  Louvre  !  It  would  be  made 
more  of  in  Italy  or  Germany,"  he  added,  as  the  Duke 
uttered  a  contemptuous  protest,  "  than  here.  God 
preserve  the  King  and  all  belonging  to  him  !  " 

Unperceived  by  either,  Henri  had  drawn  near,  and, 
overhearing  Bassompierre's  words,  took  the  answer 
upon  himself.  They  were  fools,  he  told  them,  to  pay 
attention  to  prognostications.  Astrologers  and  char- 
latans had  predicted  danger  to  him  for  thirty  years. 
When  the  time  of  his  death  should  arrive,  the  prophecies 
touching  that  particular  year  would  be  remembered,  all 
the  others  forgotten. 

It  was  doubtless  true.     But  the  mind  is  not  governed 


Prophecies  and  Omens  195 

by  reason,  and  no  one  reading  Sully's  memoirs  could 
fail  to  perceive  that  Henri  was  far  from  being  unmoved 
by  what  he  affected  to  treat  with  contempt. 

As  the  days  went  by  warnings  and  omens  increased 
and  multiplied.  Now  it  was  a  nun  who  was  afflicted 
by  a  startling  vision  of  death  and  murder  ;  an  image  of 
St.  Louis  was  said  to  have  shed  tears ;  bells  tolled  with- 
out visible  agency  ;  a  little  shepherdess,  bringing  home 
her  flock  at  night,  asked  the  meaning  of  the  word 
"  King."  A  voice,  she  said,  had  cried  in  her  ears  that  the 
King  was  slain.  A  general  condition  of  nervous  appre- 
hension prevailed.  Things  of  small  account  in  them- 
selves were  afterwards  remembered.  The  King  had 
been  heard  more  than  once,  as  if  by  accident,  to  allude 
to  his  wife  as  the  Regent.  Again,  two  days  before  his 
death,  he  had  shown  the  Dauphin  to  the  nobles  present, 
saying,  "  Here  is  henceforth  your  master."  Had  all 
gone  well,  these  trifles  would  have  been  buried  in 
oblivion.  The  King  dead,  they  became  part  of  the 
multitude  of  incidents  that  had  seemed  to  prepare  the 
way  for  the  tragedy  and  usher  it  in. 

At  length  the  long-anticipated  ceremony  took  place. 
On  Wednesday,  May  12,  the  Court  slept  at  Saint- 
Denis,  all  the  royal  children  being  brought  from  Saint- 
Germain  for  the  occasion.  The  Comte  de  Soissons  had 
left  Paris  owing  to  a  quarrel  concerning  the  dress  to 
be  worn  by  the  young  Duchesse  de  Vend6me,  con- 
sidered by  him  to  infringe  upon  the  rights  of  the 
Princes  of  the  Blood  ;  Conde  and  his  wife  were  still 
finding  shelter  with  the  King's  enemies  ;  Sully,  pleading 
sickness  as  his  excuse,  was  absent  ;  but,  with  few 
exceptions,  all  the  French  nobles,  dignitaries  of  the 


196  The  Making  of  a  King 

Church,  and  officers  of  State  assisted  at  the  Queen's 
tardy  triumph. 

The  hour  of  midday  on  the  Thursday  had  been  fixed 
for  the  Sacre.  On  that  morning  Henri  appeared  to 
have  thrown  off  his  melancholy,  and  was  unusually 
gay.  Yet,  as  he  passed  from  the  brilliant  spring  sun- 
shine outside  into  the  dimly-lighted  church,  thronged 
from  end  to  end  with  a  silent  and  expectant  crowd,  he 
observed  to  those  around  him  that  he  was  reminded  of 
the  scene  of  the  last  great  Judgment — for  which  might 
all  men  prepare. 

To  Marie  de  Medicis  that  moment  was  the  proudest 
of  a  life  marked  by  not  a  few  humiliations.  To-day 
she — not  the  King — was  the  central  figure  of  the 
pageant ;  she  had  achieved  the  object  of  her  legitimate 
desire.  Nothing  was  wanting  to  complete  her  satis- 
faction. The  account  of  the  show,  as  she  gave  it 
later  on  to  a  Tuscan  envoy,  indicates  the  attention 
she  had  paid  to  its  details  and  the  gratification  it 
afforded  her  to  recall  them  even  after  the  tragedy  which 
might  have  blotted  them  out  from  her  memory.  The 
sight,  she  told  her  countryman,  had  been  as  fair  a  one 
as  was  possible  in  France.  Dwelling  upon  its  salient 
features,  she  described  the  arrangement  of  the  seats, 
princes,  princesses,  cardinals,  bishops,  and  officers  of 
State  being  placed  in  their  several  orders  and  degrees 
below  her.  It  was,  she  agreed — adopting  the  simile 
suggested  by  the  obsequious  Italian — like  Paradise, 
the  choirs  of  angels  being  represented  by  the  tiers 
of  spectators. 

One  incident  had  occurred  to  which,  as  to  others, 
an  ominous  significance  had  been  attached.  The 


The  Queens  Sacre  197 

stone  marking  the  place  of  sepulchre  of  the  Kings 
of  France  had  cracked  across  in  a  manner  rendering 
it  necessary  to  close  the  fissure  with  lime.  But  Marie 
had  been  kept  ignorant  of  the  mishap,  and,  with  this 
exception,  all  had  gone  well.  If  the  heavy  crown,  set 
insecurely  on  the  Queen's  head,  had  come  near  to 
falling,  she  had  steadied  it  so  effectually  with  her 
two  hands  that  it  remained  firmly  fixed  in  its  place, 
and  the  ceremony  concluded  without  misadventure. 
The  Dauphin,  with  no  knowledge  of  the  past  heart- 
burnings, doubts,  suspicions,  fears,  lending  its  chief 
importance  to  what  was  no  less  his  triumph  than 
that  of  his  mother,  played  a  leading  part  in  the  show. 
Dressed  in  cloth  of  silver,  and  covered  with  diamonds, 
he  preceded  the  Queen  in  the  procession,  and  with 
his  little  sister,  Madame,  assisted  in  placing  the  crown 
—inefficiently,  as  it  appeared — upon  her  head. 
Every  one  of  her  children  were  present,  Gaston, 
Due  d'Anjou,  and  Henriette  Marie,  Charles  I.'s 
future  wife,  being  carried  in  the  arms  of  their 
attendants. 

As  Marie  de  Medicis  left  the  church,  the  long  rite 
concluded,  her  position  was  vindicated.  Whatever 
the  future  might  have  in  store  for  her,  no  one  could 
dispute  her  right  to  be  considered  the  lawful  wife 
of  Henri-Quatre,  or  her  son's  position  as  his  heir. 
In  the  plenitude  of  her  satisfaction,  she  felt  she  could 
afford  to  laugh  at  presages  of  misfortune  ;  and,  meeting 
one  of  the  astrologers  who  had  foretold  that  the 
festivity  was  destined  to  end  in  weeping,  she  is  said 
to  have  taxed  him  gaily  with  his  error. 

"  Madame,"   replied   the  soothsayer,   "  your   entree 


198  The  Making  of  a  King 

has  not  yet  been  made.  God  grant  my  science  may 
be  at  fault." 

Henri,  on  leaving  Saint-Denis,  had  likewise  met 
an  acquaintance.  In  his*  case  it  was  a  Jesuit,  whom 
he  accosted  in  friendly  fashion. 

"  Eh  bien  !  mon  pere"  he  said.  u  I  go  to  join  my 
army.  Will  you  not  pray  God  for  us  here  ?  " 

"  H£,  Sire,"  replied  the  priest,  "  how  could  we 
pray  God  for  you,  who  are  going  to  a  country  full 
of  heretics,  in  order  to  exterminate  the  little  handful 
of  Catholics  who  remain  there  ?  " 

Henri's  indomitable  good-humour  was  undisturbed. 

"  It  is  zeal,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh,  "  which  carries 
this  good  man  away,  and  causes  him  to  speak  like 
this,"  and  proceeded  on  his  way. 

Regaining  the  palace  before  his  wife  had  reached  it 
and  watching  her  approach  from  an  upper  window,  he 
scattered  some  drops  of  water  on  her  as  she  passed 
below.  Meeting  her  afterwards  at  the  foot  of  the 
staircase,  he  joined  in  the  banquet  given  to  celebrate 
the  event  before  returning  with  the  Court  to  the 
Louvre.  And  so  the  long  day  ended. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
1610 

May  14,  1 6 10 — Henri  and  Guise — The  King's  melancholy — His  last 
hours — His  murder — The  scene  at  the  Louvre — Sully 's  ride  through 
Paris — Effect  of  the  murder — Marie  declared  Regent — Louis  XIII. 
King. 

THE  history  of  the  tragedy  of  Friday,  May  14, 
has  been  often  told.  Yet,  from  a  narrative  of 
which  it  is  a  central  and  determining  event,  it  cannot 
be  omitted,  and  the  various  accounts  of  contemporaries 
make  it  possible  to  follow  the  King  in  detail  through 
the  last  hours  of  his  life. 

He  rose  that  morning  after  a  sleepless  night.  All 
through  the  hours  of  darkness,  as  Marie  afterwards 
told  the  Tuscan  envoy,  a  night-bird  had  circled  round 
and  round  the  palace,  disturbing  the  inmates  with  its 
mournful  cries.  It  was  remarked  that  the  King  spent 
a  longer  time  than  usual  at  his  devotions  ;  but,  though 
feeling  the  effects  of  his  wakefulness,  he  preserved 
the  cheerfulness  he  had  displayed  on  the  preceding  day ; 
and  as  he  walked  home  after  hearing  Mass  at  the 
Feuillants,  the  Due  de  Guise,  who,  with  Bassompierre, 
had  gone  to  meet  him,  congratulated  him  on  his  wit. 
He  was  one  of  the  most  amusing  men  in  the  world, 
the  Duke  said  ;  had  he  been  born  in  a  different  sphere 
of  life  he  would  have  considered  no  price  too  high 

199 


200  The  Making  of  a  King 

to  pay  in  order  to  secure  his  services.  Since  he  had 
been  made  a  great  King,  Guise  could  not  have  been 
aught  but  his  servant. 

It  was  a  tribute  Henri  .liked,  and  he  embraced  the 
speaker.  His  answer  showed  that  the  thought  of  death 
had  not  ceased  to  haunt  his  imagination. 

"  You  do  not  know  me  now/'  he  said,  probably 
between  jest  and  earnest,  "  but  one  of  these  days  I 
shall  die,  and  when  you  have  lost  me  you  will  know 
what  I  am  worth,  and  how  greatly  I  differ  from  other 
men/' 

Bassompierre,  young  and  light-hearted,  took  upon 
himself  to  chide  his  master.  When,  he  asked,  would 
the  King  cease  to  disquiet  his  friends  by  talk  of  his 
approaching  death  ?  with  God's  help,  he  had  still  many 
good  years  of  life  before  him — of  a  life  there  was 
so  much  to  render  desirable.  The  King  sighed  as  he 
listened  to  the  enumeration  of  his  earthly  posses- 
sions. 

"  My  friend,"  he  said,  "all  that  must  be  left  behind." 
The  cheerfulness  of  the  morning  was  gone  ;  his  fore- 
bodings had  presumably  gained  once  more  the  upper 
hand. 

Returned  to  the  palace,  he  had  his  two  youngest 
children,  Gaston  and  Henriette,  brought  to  his  apart- 
ments and  spent  some  time  playing  with  them,  striving, 
it  may  be,  to  dispel  his  melancholy.  It  must  have 
seemed  causeless  enough.  All  was  as  usual  at  the 
Louvre,  and  it  was  noted  that  the  Dauphin  was  "  fort 
gai  "  that  morning,  excited  no  doubt  by  the  events  of 
the  previous  day.  In  the  afternoon  the  Queen  retired 
to  rest  in  her  chamber,  Louis  was  taken  in  his  carriage 


May  14th  201 

to  inspect  the  preparations  made  for  his  mother's 
entr&e,  and  quiet  settled  over  the  palace. 

That  morning  Sully  had  received  a  summons  from 
the  King  to  meet  him  at  the  Tuileries,  where  he  wished 
to  speak  with  him  alone.  But  the  sickness  serving 
as  an  excuse  for  his  absence  from  the  coronation  had 
been  no  mere  pretext  ;  he  was  undergoing  a  course 
of  treatment  by  means  of  baths,  and  when  the  King 
learnt  the  condition  in  which  his  messenger  had  found 
him  he  cancelled  his  orders,  forbidding  the  minister, 
on  the  contrary,  to  leave  the  house.  The  next  morn- 
ing, Saturday,  he  would  himself  visit  the  Arsenal  at 
five  o'clock,  when  final  arrangements  should  be  made 
for  his  departure  from  Paris  on  the  Monday.  A  kindly 
injunction  was  added  to  the  effect  that  the  Duke  was 
not  to  be  dressed  to  receive  him  on  his  early  visit. 

Henri,  upon  second  thoughts,  must  have  changed 
his  plans,  and,  as  his  friend  could  not  come  to  the 
palace,  must  have  determined  to  seek  him  at  home. 
Dinner  over,  he  at  first  attempted  to  repair  the  wake- 
fulness  of  the  night  ;  then,  unable  to  sleep,  and  having 
again  said  some  prayers,  he  acted  upon  the  advice  of 
the  officer  on  guard,  who  counselled  him  to  seek  the 
open  air. 

Possibly  he  had  forgotten,  possibly  had  decided  to 
disregard,  the  premonition  he  had  felt  of  impending 
calamity,  associated  with  a  coach  ;  since  he  ordered  his 
own  to  be  brought,  with  the  intention  of  visiting  the 
Arsenal,  declining  the  attendance  of  Vitry,  the  captain 
of  the  guard,  or  of  his  men. 

"  I  want  neither  you  nor  your  guards,"  he  told  him. 
"  I  want  no  one  round  me." 


202  The  Making  of  a  King 

Even  now  he  wavered,  and  Ravaillac's  opportunity 
might  have  been  lost. 

"  Ma  mie"  he  said  repeatedly  to  the  Queen,  c<  shall 
I  go  ?  shall  I  not  go  ?  "  leaving  the  room  two  or  three 
times  only  to  return  and  raise  the  question  again. 
Then,  having  at  last  made  up  his  mind,  he  kissed 
Marie  more  than  once,  with  the  longing  for  the  demon- 
strations of  affection  so  characteristic  of  him,  as  he  bade 
her  adieu. 

"  I  shall  do  no  more  than  go  and  come,"  he  said, 
"  and  shall  be  back  immediately." 

And  so  the  two  parted,  for  the  last  time. 

Accompanied  by  Epernon,  Montbazon,  and  some 
five  other  courtiers,  he  quitted  the  palace.  As  he 
entered  the  coach  a  recollection  of  the  current 
prophecies  would  seem  to  have  recurred  to  his  memory. 
Turning  to  one  of  his  companions,  he  demanded  the 
day  of  the  month. 

"  To-day  is  the  i  fth,  Sire,"  was  the  reply. 

"  No,"  said  some  one  else  in  correction,  "  it  is  the 
I4th." 

"True,"  answered  the  King,  "you  are  best  ac- 
quainted with  your  almanack "  ;  then,  with  a  laugh, 
"  Between  the  I3th  and  the  I4th  .  .  .  ,"  he  added  as  he 
drove  away.  To  what  he  alluded  remains  uncertain. 

The  coach  reached  the  Rue  de  la  Ferronnerie  ;  a 
cart,  blocking  the  way,  obliged  the  driver  to  slacken 
his  speed  ;  a  man  who  had  been  standing  before  a 
shop — it  was  named  the  "  Coeur  Couronne  perc6  d'une 
Fl&che  " — threw  himself  upon  the  King  and  stabbed 
him  twice. 

Accounts  as  to  what  followed  differed.     Some  said 


The  King's  Murder  203 

he  spoke  ;  but  only  to  say  "  it  was  nothing."  Then 
his  voice  died  away  into  silence,  and  all  was  over. 

The  Queen,  meanwhile,  had  been  resting  from  the 
fatigue  of  the  previous  day,  the  Duchesse  de  Mont- 
pensier  her  companion.  A  sound  of  many  tramp- 
ling feet,  reaching  her  ears,  was  her  first  intimation 
that  something  unusual  had  occurred,  and  her  thoughts 
flying,  with  swift  terror,  to  the  Dauphin,  she  sent  the 
Duchess  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of  the  disturbance, 
awaiting  her  report  with  growing  anxiety. 

"  Your  son  is  not  dead — it  is  nothing,"  said  Madame 
de  Montpensier,  returning ;  but  the  assurance  was 
given  with  a  countenance  so  pallid  and  terror-stricken 
that,  her  mistress's  fears  unallayed,  she  opened  the 
door  of  her  room  and  issued  forth  to  make  personal 
investigation. 

A  scene  of  horror  and  confusion  confronted  her. 
Two  hundred  men,  with  drawn  swords,  were  gathered 
outside.  In  the  midst  of  them  lay  the  dead  King. 

"  Oh,  Madame,"  cried  Praslin,  one  of  the  captains 
of  the  guard,  as  he  perceived  her,  "  we  are  lost." 

"  Fearing  the  truth,"  she  afterwards  wrote,  "  I  felt 
my  forces  fail  and  should  have  fallen  fainting  to  the 
ground  had  Madame  de  Montpensier  and  others  of 
my  women  not  supported  me.  They  brought  me 
back  to  the  couch  in  my  chamber.  M.  d'Epernon  and 
others  sought  to  comfort  me  by  the  assurance  that  the 
King,  though  severely  wounded,  was  not  dead,  and 
might  recover." 

The  terrible  tidings  had  quickly  reached  the 
Arsenal.  Sully  had  obeyed  his  master's  orders  and 
had  remained  at  home — as  those  about  him  remarked, 


204  The  Making  of  a  King 

in  a  melancholy  mood — when  a  cry,  raised  in  the  house, 
startled  him  in  his  chamber.  The  King  was  not  indeed 
slain,  so  it  was  said,  but  was  desperately  wounded. 
All  was  lost  and  France  ruined — such  was  the  lament 
of  those  around.  Better  than  any  other,  the  Duke 
recognised  its  truth. 

"  If  he  is  dead/*  he  said — there  was  still  the  doubt 
— "  sen  est  fait — all  is  over." 

In  any  case,  his  place  was  at  his  master 's  side,  dead 
or  living,  and  he  prepared  to  ride  to  the  palace. 
Bassompierre,  appointed  by  Henri  to  meet  him  at 
the  Arsenal,  and  who  had  been  awaiting  him  there 
when  the  news  was  brought,  was  beforehand  with  the 
minister.  "  I  ran  like  a  madman,"  he  wrote,  "  taking 
the  first  horse  I  found,  and  galloped  to  the  Louvre." 
Passing  the  barriers,  already  closely  guarded,  he 
reached  the  King's  chamber,  finding  the  dead  man 
lying  upon  his  bed.  M.  de  Vic,  one  of  the  State 
Council,  had  placed  a  cross  upon  his  lips  and  was 
speaking  to  him  of  God — "  lui  faisoit  souvenir  de 
Dieu."  Though  doctors  surrounded  him  and  surgeons 
were  dressing  the  wound  it  was  too  plain  that  there 
was  nothing  to  be  done.  Life  was  extinct. 

M.  le  Grand,  Grand  Equerry,  who  had  entered 
with  Bassompierre,  knelt  by  the  bed,  holding  and 
kissing  one  of  his  master's  hands  ;  Bassompierre,  fling- 
ing himself  at  his  feet,  was  in  tears. 

Meantime,  as  Sully  rode  towards  the  palace  his  train 
was  increasing  in  numbers,  till  he  was  followed  by 
some  three  hundred  horsemen.  As  he  traversed  the 
streets  they  were  filled  with  a  mourning  crowd  who 
made  no  sound,  nor  uttered,  for  the  most  part,  any  cry, 


The  King's  Murder  205 

weeping  silently,  as  if  stunned  by  the  suddenness 
of  the  calamity,  the  magnitude  of  which  was  uncertain. 
Warning  after  warning  was  given  Sully  significant  of 
the  interpretation  put,  in  some  quarters  at  least, 
upon  the  deed,  viewed  not  in  the  light  of  an  isolated 
crime,  but  as  part  of  a  preconcerted  plot.  Wariness 
was  enjoined  upon  the  minister  with  regard  to  those 
in  whose  hands  the  supreme  power  would  now  be 
placed. 

"  It  is  over,"  thus  ran  a  note  thrown  to  the  Duke 
as  he  rode  by,  "  I  have  seen  him  dead.  If  you  enter 
the  Louvre  neither  will  you  escape." 

His  fears  for  his  master  confirmed,  great  tears  fell 
from  Sully's  eyes.  He  was  not  to  be  turned  back. 
Dead  or  alive,  he  would  see  the  King.  Again  a 
warning  voice  was  raised. 

"  Our  ill  is  beyond  remedy,"  said  a  gentleman, 
meeting  him  ;  "  I  know  it,  for  I  have  looked  upon  it. 
Think  of  yourself,  for  this  blow  will  have  terrible 
results." 

And  still  Sully  pursued  his  way.  At  the  entrance  to 
the  Rue  Saint-Honore  a  note  similar  to  the  first  was 
flung  to  him  ;  regardless  of  it,  he  was  continuing  to 
advance  when  Vitry,  captain  of  the  guard,  stopping 
him,  threw  himself,  in  broken-hearted  fashion,  into  his 
arms.  The  King,  their  good  master,  he  cried,  was 
dead.  France  was  ruined — there  was  nothing  to  do 
but  to  die.  What  was  Sully  about  ?  Not  more 
than  some  two  or  three  of  his  attendants  would  be 
permitted  to  enter  the  Louvre,  and  unaccompanied 
he  counselled  him  not  to  go  thither.  There  was 
method  in  what  had  been  done,  or  Vitry  was  mistaken  ; 


206  The  Making  of  a  King 

"  for  I  have  seen  those  " — he  was  careful  to  mention  no 
names — "  who  have  apparently  suffered  great  loss,  but 
who  cannot  conceal  that  they  are  not  so  sad  at  heart  as 
they  should  be.  I  have  been  bursting  with  indignation, 
and,  had  you  seen  what  I  have  seen,  you  would  be 
enraged."  Let  Sully  go  back  ;  there  was  enough  to 
do  without  entering  the  Louvre.  And  Sully  at  length 
consented  to  turn  his  horse's  head  towards  the  Arsenal, 
sending  a  message  to  the  Queen  to  offer  his  services 
and  to  demand  her  orders. 

At  the  palace  panic  had  at  first  prevailed;  there, 
too,  it  had  not  been  known  how  far-reaching  was  the 
plot  of  which  the  assassination  might  be  only  a  single 
feature.  Repairing  to  the  Queen's  presence,  the  Chan- 
cellor and  Villeroy  took  counsel  with  her  as  to  the 
immediate  steps  to  be  taken. 

"  The  King  is  dead,"  cried  Marie. 

"  Pardon  me,  Madame,"  replied  the  Chancellor, 
"  the  Kings  of  France  never  die.  Restrain  your  tears 
till  you  have  ensured  your  own  safety  and  that  of  your 
children." 

Bassompierre  and  le  Grand  had  been  summoned 
from  their  mournful  watch  by  their  dead  master  ;  the 
Duke  de  Guise  had  been  also  called  into  counsel.  To 
Bassompierre  orders  were  given  to  collect  the  Light 
Horse  he  commanded,  and  to  ride  through  Paris  at  their 
head,  thus  to  quiet  tumult  and  suppress  sedition.  Le 
Grand  was  to  remain  in  charge  of  the  King's  body  and 
to  guard,  should  protection  prove  necessary,  the  person 
of  the  Dauphin. 

As  Bassompierre  executed  the  commands  he  had 
received  he  encountered  Sully  ;  who,  having  by  this 


Sull/s  Conduct  207 

time  abandoned  his  intention  of  seeking  the  palace, 
administered  an  admonition  to  the  younger  man  with 
regard  to  his  duty,  exhorting  him  and  his  comrades  to 
take  an  oath  of  fidelity  to  the  new  King,  and  to  swear 
to  spend  blood  and  life  in  avenging  his  father. 

The  minister's  address,  somewhat  sententious  in 
tone,  did  not  find  favour  with  Bassompierre,  by  whom 
Sully  had  probably  never  been  liked. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  answered  hotly,  u  it  is  we  who  are 
administering  that  oath  to  others,  nor  is  there  any  need 
that  we  should  be  exhorted  to  a  thing  so  binding 
upon  us." 

Whereupon  Sully,  turning  away,  repaired  to  the 
Bastille,  where  he  shut  himself  up,  having  provisioned 
the  place  with  as  much  bread  as  could  be  obtained  ; 
dispatching  a  messenger  to  his  son-in-law,  Rohan,  to 
instruct  him  to  march,  with  the  six  thousand  Swiss  he 
commanded,  to  Paris.  An  order  which  reached  him  from 
the  Queen  to  the  effect  that  he  should  proceed  to  the 
Louvre  and  confer  with  her  upon  matters  of  import- 
ance was  ignored. 

Whether  or  not  Sully  was  well-advised  in  testifying  his 
distrust  of  those  in  power  after  a  fashion  that  scarcely 
admitted  of  misconception,  the  fact  that  Epernon 
was  taking  the  chief  part  in  the  direction  of  affairs 
at  the  Louvre  was  not  calculated  to  inspire  him  with 
confidence,  fipernon,  the  Queen  afterwards  said,  had 
behaved  admirably.  He  had  certainly  been  prompt  and 
efficient.  Henri-Quatre  had  been  murdered  at  about 
four  o'clock.  Before  five  Marie  had  been  declared 
Regent,  and  the  new  Government  had  been  established. 
"  M.  d'Epernon,"  says  Bassompierre,  "  who,  after 


208  The  Making  of  a  King 

having  given  the  necessary  orders  to  the  French  guards 
before  the  Louvre " — he  was  colonel-general  of  the 
infantry — "had  come  to  kiss  the  hands  of  the  King 
and  the  Queen  his  mother,  was  sent  by  her  to  the 
Parlement,  to  represent  to  it  that  the  Queen  had  letters 
of  Regency  from  the  late  King  .  .  .  and  that  the 
urgency  of  the  affair  demanded  that  it  should  be  settled 
without  delay." 

The  messenger  was  well  chosen.  Repairing  to  the 
Augustines,  where  the  Parlement  was  then  sitting, 
Epernon  executed  the  Queen's  behests. 

"  It  is  still  in  the  scabbard,"  he  said  insolently,  as 
he  indicated  his  sword.  "  Should  the  Queen  not  be 
declared  Regent  before  the  assembly  disperses,  it  must 
be  drawn,  and  I  foresee  that  blood  will  be  shed."  It 
was  no  time  for  deliberation.  The  thing  must  be  done 
without  delay. 

Taken  by  surprise,  the  Parlement  maintained  at  first 
a  gloomy  silence.  They  were  required  to  give  their 
consent  to  an  unprecedented  arrangement,  in  conferring 
supreme  power  upon  the  Queen  alone,  to  the  exclusion 
of  Princes  of  the  Blood  and  officers  of  the  Crown. 
But  in  the  end  they  yielded,  and,  Epernon  having  left 
the  hall  in  order  to  give  the  semblance  of  greater 
freedom  to  their  decision,  it  was  resolved  to  do  Marie's 
bidding  and  declare  her  Regent  during  the  minority 
of  her  son.  Not  only  was  she  to  rule  ;  by  the 
words  "avec  toute  puissance  et  autorite,"  her  power 
was  made  absolute. 

The  fear  lest  the  murder  should  prove  part  of  a 
wide-spread  conspiracy  may  have  accelerated  the  move- 
ments of  the  Parlement  :  there  were  no  grounds 


After  the  Murder  209 

for  the  apprehension.  Paris  remained  quiet,  nor  was 
there  any  sign  of  riot  or  disorder.  Louis  was  King. 
As  the  tidings  of  the  catastrophe  spread,  he  had 
been  hurried  back  to  the  palace,  breaking  into  weeping, 
and  exclaiming  that,  had  he  been  with  his  father,  he 
would  have  slain  the  murderer  with  his  sword.  That 
evening  he  was  served  by  his  attendants  on  their 
knees.  Surprised  by  the  novelty,  he  first  gave  a 
laugh  ;  then,  as  the  significance  of  the  ceremonial 
became  apparent  to  him,  burst  into  tears. 

cc  I  would  I  were  not  King,"  he  cried.  "  I  would  it 
were  my  brother.  I  fear  they  will  kill  me,  as  they 
have  killed  the  King,  my  father." 

Little  Orleans,  hardly  more  than  three,  whom 
Louis  would  have  liked  to  take  his  place,  had  shown 
a  spirit  beyond  his  years  ;  asking  for  a  dagger,  and 
crying  out  that  he  would  not  outlive  his  papa.  The 
Queen  described  the  scene  at  her  dinner-table,  and  the 
story  leaked  out  and  was  repeated  in  Paris  ;  where  it 
was  also  said  that  astrologers  predicted  a  great  future 
for  the  second  son  of  the  dead  King  ;  he  would 
succeed  his  brother,  and  would  avenge  his  father,  as 
he  was  ever  speaking  of  doing.  He  was  likewise  to 
be  the  Pope's  foe — to  ruin  Rome  and  to  drive  his 
Holiness  out  of  it.  Which,  being  repeated  to  his 
mother,  she  said  that,  did  God  give  her  life,  she  would 
prevent  this  prediction  from  coming  to  pass. 

When  Louis — reported  not  to  be  of  so  high  a  spirit 
as  his  brother,  though  generous  and  soldierly — was 
undressed  that  night  and  prepared  for  bed,  he  begged 
to  be  permitted  to  sleep  with  M.  de  Souvre. 

"  Lest  dreams  should  come  to  me,"  he  said  fearfully. 


210  The  Making,  of  a  King 

Lest  dreams  should  come.  Surely,  throughout  his 
life,  the  memory  of  that  fourteenth  of  May,  and  of  the 
dead  father  he  loved  so  well,  will  have  haunted  his 
imagination  like  a  nightanare. 

His  request  was  granted,  and  in  the  room  of  the 
gouverneur  he  slumbered  till  past  eleven,  when  the 
Queen,  anxious  to  have  all  her  children  under  her  eye, 
sent  to  fetch  him  to  her  chamber,  where  his  brothers 
and  sisters  were  gathered  together,  closely  guarded. 
It  is  to  be  noted,  as  a  curious  trait  of  kindness  on  her 
part  towards  the  son  of  the  woman  who  had  wrought 
her  so  much  ill,  that  Marie  directed  that  Henri  de 
Verneuil,  who  had  borne  Louis  company,  should  be 
likewise  brought  to  her  apartments,  thus  associating 
him  with  her  care  for  her  own  children. 

For  Marie,  as  for  her  son,  a  fresh  period  of  life  had 
been  opened  by  the  King's  death.  Into  the  much- 
debated  question  of  the  complicity  or  connivance  of 
mo"e  important  personages  in  Ravaillac's  crime  there 
is  no  space  to  enter  at  length.  Theories  are  numerous ; 
hypotheses  abound  ;  and  it  would  take  a  volume  to 
deal  with  them  in  any  complete  fashion.  The  sugges- 
tion has  been  hazarded  that,  apart  from  the  murderer 
and  destitute  of  any  collusion  with  him,  a  conspiracy 
existed  which  might  have  done  the  work  had  he  failed 
to  accomplish  it,  in  which  Epernon,  the  Marquise, 
and  others  were  implicated.  What  is  certain  is  that 
there  were  many  to  whose  designs  Henri  was  an 
obstacle,  and  to  whom  he  barred  the  way  to  success. 
To  Spain,  he  was  the  one  great  opponent  of  her 
ambitious  schemes.  To  adherents  of  the  ancient  faith 
he  represented,  his  personal  Catholicism  notwithstanding, 


Various  Theories  211 

the  leader  and  chief  support  of  the  Protestant  party  in 
Europe.  Madame  de  Verneuil  will  have  bitterly 
resented  his  defection.  His  wife  had  little  reason  to 
mourn  him.  To  her  favourites  his  death  left  the  road 
to  unlimited  wealth  and  power  open.  But  the  fact 
that  any  person  was  benefited  by  the  crime  is  no  proof 
that  they  lent  a  hand  to  compass  it ;  and  other  evidence 
of  their  guilt  must  be  sought. 

Neither  is  the  sentence  dictated  by  popular  prejudice 
conclusive.  Upon  the  Jesuits,  for  instance,  disliked 
and  distrusted,  suspicion  could  not  fail  to  fall  ;  and 
the  tone  of  Lestoile's  journal  in  itself  is  sufficient  to 
indicate  the  view  taken  in  the  capital.  "  Pere  Cotton," 
he  writes,  "  with  a  truly  courtier-like  and  Jesuitical 
exclamation,  cried,  c  Who  is  the  villain  who  has  slain 
this  good  prince,  this  holy  King,  this  great  King  ? 
Was  it  a  Huguenot  ?  '  '  No/  was  the  answer,  '  it  was 
a  Roman  Catholic/  *  Ah  !  what  pity  if  it  be  so,'  he 
said,  signing  himself  immediately,  in  Jesuit  fashion, 
with  three  great  signs  of  the  cross.  A  voice  was 
audible,  coming  from  some  one  present  who  had  heard 
Pere  Cotton's  question,  saying,  '  The  Huguenots  do 
not  strike  these  blows.' ' 

How  wide-spread  was  the  implied  accusation  charging 
the  Society  with  complicity  in  the  murder,  is  curiously 
proved  by  a  scene  taking  place  in  the  house  of  the 
Comte  de  Soissons ;  when  the  Prince,  in  the  pre- 
sence of  from  twenty  to  thirty  guests,  threatened  to 
stab  the  first  of  them  bold  enough  to  assert  that 
the  Order  had  been  instrumental  in  procuring  the 
King's  death.  He  was  aware,  he  added,  that  this  was 
language  common  in  the  mouths  of  many  ;  the  first 


2i2  The  Making  of  a  King 

who  should  venture  to  use  it  in  his  presence  should 
lose  his  life. 

Suspicion,  however  wide-spread,  is  far  from  being 
evidence,  and  the  questfon  whether  the  assassin  was 
a  mere  religious  maniac,  acting  upon  his  sole  initiative, 
in  delivering,  as  he  believed,  the  Church  from  her  chief 
foe,  or  an  instrument  in  the  hands  of  others  has 
never  been  satisfactorily  determined.  Ravaillac,  whose 
avowal  would  have  solved  the  mystery  once  for  all, 
uttered  no  word,  under  torture  or  otherwise,  that  could 
elucidate  it.  He  incriminated  none.  A  passage  of 
M.  Zeller's — than  whom  no  man  is  more  qualified  to 
pronounce  an  opinion — may  be  accepted  as  summarising 
the  whole  matter  : 

"All  has  been  said  with  regard  to  the  death  of 
Henri-Quatre  ;  we  will  not  repeat  it.  Whatever  may 
be  the  mystery  enveloping  this  fatal  event,  and  however 
little  belief  may  be  accorded  to  vague  or  ill-founded 
theories,  it  can  be  said  that  Spain  profited  by  the  King's 
death,  and  that  it  secured  the  triumph  of  Marie  de 
Medicis's  personal  policy,  favourable  to  that  Power. 
Further  than  this  no  document  authorises  us  to  go." 

1  "  Henri  IV.  et  Marie  de  Medicis,"  p.  309. 


CHAPTER   XVII 
1610 

Louis's  Accession — The  scene  in  the  Parlement — Sully  at  the  Louvre — 
The  Queen  as  Regent — The  King's  fears — Claims  of  the  Comte 
de  Soissons — Burial  of  Henri-Quatre — Louis  proclaimed. 

LOUIS  was  King.     He  might  as  yet  be  a  cipher  ; 
he  was  a  cipher  upon  which  hung  the  destinies 
of  France.    Yesterday  he  had  been  of  practical  importance 
to  none  save  his  immediate  surroundings  ;  to-day  the 
eyes  of  the  whole  nation  were  fixed  upon  him. 

In  the  early  morning  of  May  1 5  he  was  awakened 
that  he  might  be  prepared  to  play  his  part  in  the 
ceremonial  of  the  day  ;  and  before  he  rose  M.  de 
Souvre  had  instructed  him  in  the  speech  he  was  to 
make  to  the  assembled  Parlement,  which  was  to  be 
asked  to  confirm  the  hurried  decree  of  the  previous 
day,  and  formally  to  declare  the  Queen-mother 
Regent. 

Nobles  and  princes  and  officers  of  State  had  collected 
at  the  palace,  preparatory  to  accompanying  the  new 
King  to  the  Augustines.  As  the  boy  rode  through 
the  streets,  surrounded  by  his  brilliant  escort  and 
mounted  on  a  little  white  nag,  the  youth  and  helpless- 
ness of  the  fatherless  child  appealed  to  the  throng,  and 
shouts  of  "  Vive  le  roi  !  "  greeted  him  on  every  side. 
Bewildered  and  confused,  he  listened  to  the  cries. 

213 


214  The  Making  .of  a  King 

"  Who  is  the  King  ? "  he  asked,  turning  to  one 
of  his  attendants.  "  Who  is  the  King  ?  " 

All  was  accomplished  according  to  the  Queen's  most 
sanguine  anticipations.  Ity  a  singular  chance — fortunate 
so  far  as  she  was  concerned — two  of  the  three  Princes 
of  the  Blood  were  absent  from  Paris.  Conde  was  at 
a  distance  ;  Soissons  was  also  in  the  country.  Conti 
was  a  nonentity.  No  one  was  at  hand  of  sufficient 
weight  to  contest  the  claim  of  the  King's  mother  to 
be  invested  with  undivided  authority.  It  has  been 
seen  that  Epernon  had  set  himself  with  passion  to 
vindicate  her  claims.  Sully,  in  default  of  the  necessary 
support,  was  powerless  to  oppose  them  ;  and,  having 
reluctantly  yielded  obedience  to  reiterated  summonses 
from  the  Queen,  he  assisted,  sad  at  heart,  at  the 
inauguration  of  what  he  knew  too  well  would  prove 
the  ruin  of  the  labours  of  a  life-time. 

The  ceremony  was  decorously  carried  through. 
Louis  was  seated  on  the  throne  ;  his  mother — an 
empty  space  between  them — at  his  right  hand. 
Souvre  knelt  on  the  steps  below,  and  the  great  nobles 
were  ranged  on  either  side.  Amid  the  silence  of 
the  expectant  crowd  the  Queen  opened  the  pro- 
ceedings, pronouncing  her  speech  with  difficulty,  her 
voice  broken  by  sobs,  and  shedding  great  tears, 
"irreproachable  witnesses  of  her  inward  mourning 
for  her  dear  and  well-beloved  husband."  Her  speech 
concluded,  she  made  as  though  she  would  have 
withdrawn  ;  then,  yielding  to  the  entreaties  of  those 
present,  resumed  her  place ;  whilst  her  son,  "  with 
truly  royal  grace  and  gravity,"  addressed  the  great 
assembly. 


Sleynt  ce  ft  daunt  eft  'Aariftae  ta  /t  an  t<jo  o.  2>fjottis  Clemens  i^ape  fie  ftomf.et 
"  ftpr-a  nomine  jLoituis  tyyueiif  * 


e          /'          "' /•    •  /  <£/ 
LOUIS    XIII.    ON    THE    DAY    OF    HIS    ACCESSION. 


P-  214] 


Louis  and  the  Parlement  215 

"  Messieurs,"  he  said,  Ct  it  has  pleased  God  to  call 
to  Himself  our  good  King,  my  lord  and  father.  I 
remain,  as  his  son  and  by  the  law  of  this  realm, 
your  King.  I  hope  that  God  will  give  me  grace 
to  imitate  his  virtues  and  to  follow  the  good  coun- 
sels of  my  good  servants,  as  the  Chancellor  will  tell 

ii 
you. 

Sully,  listening  mournfully  to  the  little  set  harangue, 
will  have  told  himself,  as  he  told  others,  that  Henri's 
death  was  rather  a  sign  that  the  Almighty  had  deter- 
mined upon  the  destruction  of  France.  If  those  were 
present  who  secretly  agreed  with  him  no  dissentient 
voice  was  raised.  The  decree  already  promulgated 
received  formal  confirmation  ;  and  the  Queen  was 
declared  Regent.  One  short  passage  of  arms,  not 
without  significance,  interrupted  the  proceedings.  At 
a  certain  stage  in  them,  Concini  observed  aloud  that 
it  was  time  for  the  Queen  to  leave  her  place. 

"It  is  not  for  you  to  speak  here,"  said  the  first 
President,  Harlay,  in  stern  rebuke.  It  was  soon  to 
be  seen  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  limit  the  insolence 
of  the  man  the  Queen  delighted  to  honour. 

Amidst  the  tearful  acclamations  of  the  crowd  Louis 
rode  homewards.  The  King's  words,  spoken  on  the 
morning  of  the  day  which  saw  his  murder,  had  come 
true.  The  people,  now  that  he  was  gone,  knew  what 
they  had  lost.  Living,  they  might  have  found  much 

condemn.  Dead,  says  Michelet,  "  the  people  per- 
jived  that  they  loved  Henri-Quatre." 

The   old    order   of  things,  with   the   rapidity   of  a 

h   of  lightning,   had   been    swept  away  ;    the   new, 

four-and- twenty    hours,   was  definitely   established. 


216  The  Making  of  a  King 

Yet  a  scene  taking  place  that  afternoon  might  have 
seemed  to  promise  well  for  the  future.  Sully,  con- 
quering his  reluctance  to  enter  the  Louvre  in  its 
present  condition,  overcoming  also,  it  may  be,  some 
lingering  apprehension  as  to  the  risk  he  might  thereby 
incur,  had  come  thither  at  length  to  wait  upon  the 
Queen  in  deference  to  her  command.  As  he  entered 
the  building,  unaccompanied  save  by  his  personal 
attendants,  the  inferior  officers  of  the  royal  household, 
the  archers  and  soldiers  of  the  guard,  vied  with  each 
other  in  doing  honour  to  their  dead  master's  favoured 
servant,  recognising  and  welcoming  in  him  a  fellow 
mourner.  Many  amongst  those  of  higher  rank,  on 
the  other  hand,  were  observed  to  be  in  no  wise  cast 
down,  but  on  the  contrary  of  cheerful  counten- 
ance. 

The  Duke  was  cordially  received  by  the  Queen. 
Mingling  her  tears  with  his,  she  sent  for  Louis,  and 
admonished  him  dramatically  to  love  the  man  who 
had  been  one  of  his  father's  best  servants.  As  Sully 
held  the  boy  in  his  close  embrace  it  may  be  that,  for 
a  moment,  he  cherished  the  hope  that,  as  he  had  served 
the  father,  so  he  might  be  permitted  to  serve  the 
son.  He  was  to  be  speedily  undeceived. 

The  long  day — the  first  of  Louis's  reign — was 
drawing  to  a  close.  In  the  mortuary  chamber  to 
which  he  had  been  removed  the  dead  King  lay.  The 
night  before  he  had  been  served,  in  accordance  with 
the  strange  ritual  prescribed  by  tradition,  as  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  be  served  in  his  life-time.  The 
Due  de  Mayenne  had  given  him  his  shirt ;  Bellegarde, 
Grand  Equerry,  and  Bassompierre,  representing  the 


Sorrow  and  Rejoicing  217 

Due  de  Bouillon,  had  assisted  at  the  ghastly  ceremony. 
A  deputation  composed  of  twelve  Jesuits  now  waited, 
first  upon  Louis,  then  upon  his  mother,  to  proffer, 
on  behalf  of  their  Society,  their  services  ;  and,  further, 
to  advance  their  claim  to  the  heart  of  Henri,  which 
they  asserted  he  had  bequeathed  as  his  legacy  to  the 
Order.  Varenne,  high  in  the  late  King's  confidence, 
corroborated  their  statement,  and  the  relic  was  ac- 
cordingly delivered  over  to  them,  to  be  carried  to 
La  Fleche.  And  so  the  reign  of  Louis  XIII.  was 
inaugurated. 

The  days  went  by.  As  in  Paris  and  in  France, 
so  at  the  Louvre,  genuine  sorrow  and  conventional 
mourning — covering  and  disguising  satisfaction — con- 
fronted and  jostled  each  other.  In  the  State  apart- 
ments all  the  pomp  and  paraphernalia  of  woe  were 
displayed.  Sable  hangings  draped  the  walls ;  the 
decencies  of  desolation  were  carefully  observed.  Yet 
in  the  very  chants  of  the  requiems  it  was  noticed  that, 
whilst  the  voices  of  some  of  the  choristers  were  broken 
with  sobs,  others  found  no  difficulty  in  showing  off 
their  powers  to  the  best  advantage.  In  the  entre-sol 
below  the  muted  chambers,  life  was  carried  on  as  usual. 
To  the  indignation  of  the  few  faithful  to  the  memory 
of  the  past,  laughter  echoed  through  the  rooms  where 
Marie  held  secret  converse  with  the  men  who  enjoyed 
her  confidence — Concini  and  his  wife,  the  papal  nuncio, 
Epernon,  the  Spanish  Ambassador,  Villeroy,  and  others. 
The  accredited  Council  of  State  might  hold  its  delibera- 
tions elsewhere  ;  but  the  Queen-mother — hitherto 
almost  a  negligible  quantity  in  politics — ruled  supreme ; 


2i8  The  Making  pf  a  King 

her  will  was  law.     Such  was  the  strange  transformation 
effected  by  Ravaillac's  knife. 

To  Marie  de  Medicis  all  must  have  had  at  first 
somewhat  of  the  unreality  of  a  dream.  It  is  only 
possible  to  guess  at  the  sentiments  underlying  her 
decent  assumption  of  woe  during  these  early  days  of 
widowhood.  Setting  aside  as  unproved  the  dark 
suspicions  that  connected  her  directly  or  indirectly 
with  the  catastrophe,  it  may  be  that  she  has  been  too 
harshly  judged  ;  that,  with  little  to  attract  or  to  com- 
mand sympathy  or  admiration,  harder  measure  has  been 
meted  out  to  her  than  might  have  been  the  case  with 
a  woman  of  a  more  winning  character.  As  was 
perhaps  inevitable,  in  the  face  of  her  conduct  before 
and  after  her  husband's  death,  the  populace  and  others 
insisted  on  associating  her  name  with  that  of  the  man 
she  had  so  unwisely  favoured,  and  regarded  Concini 
as  her  lover.  Of  this,  again,  there  is  no  proof; 
but  in  her  blemished  reputation  she  received  the 
deserts  of  her  blind  infatuation  for  the  Florentine 
couple. 

For  the  rest,  human  nature  is  full  of  contradictions, 
and  it  may  be  that  her  mourning  for  the  dead  King 
was  not  wholly  a  tribute  to  the  requirements  of  con- 
vention. Regret  does  not  infrequently  follow  upon 
the  severance  of  a  tie  that  has  seemed  to  give  scanty 
cause  for  it ;  the  prosperous  can  afford  to  be  pitiful  ; 
and,  with  the  future  opening  before  her,  crowded  with 
possibilities  she  rated  at  their  full  value,  she  may 
have  been  touched  at  times  by  tenderness  or  com- 
passion for  the  dead  man  now  powerless  to  wrong 
her ;  may  have  remembered  that,  in  spite  of  his 


Sully's  Picture  of  the  Queen  219 

weakness,  his  infirmities,  and  his  sins,  he  was,  as  she 
once  told  the  Tuscan  envoy,  "di  dolce  natura,"  and 
have  not  been  totally  devoid  of  affectionate  remem- 
brance. 

That  it  would  be  unreasonable,  as  well  as  idle,  to 
look  for  more  genuine  sorrow,  posterity  will  readily 
admit  ;  but  the  fact  was  not  so  easily  acknowledged 
by  those  to  whom  Henri  had  been  master  and  friend, 
the  object,  in  spite  of  all  his  shortcomings,  of  their 
deepest  love  and  devotion.  Of  these  Sully  was  chief. 
Recalling,  in  after-days,  the  period  following  upon  the 
King's  death,  full  of  melancholy,  and  weighted  with 
the  sense  of  irreparable  loss,  the  Duke  afterwards  drew 
a  picture  of  the  Queen  as  she  then  appeared,  in  which 
the  reader  cannot  fail  to  discover,  beneath  the  language 
of  the  courtier,  the  bitterness  of  sarcasm. 

Dwelling,  in  the  first  place,  in  terms  of  perfunctory 
and  highly  coloured  panegyric,  upon  her  outward 
charms,  her  industry  and  skill  in  winning  hearts,  her 
magnanimity  and  constancy  in  the  endurance  of  sorrow 
and  trouble,  he  proceeded  to  dilate  upon  her  conduct 
at  this  crisis,  bereft  in  a  moment  of  her  dearest 
delights  in  the  companionship,  Jove,  and  society  of 
a  husband  for  whose  loss  it  must  not  be  doubted — 
Sully  had  it  on  good  authority — she  felt  all  the 
grievous  and  acute  regret  corresponding  to  the  great- 
ness of  that  loss. 

So  far,  notwithstanding  the  exaggeration  of  his 
praise,  little  in  accordance  with  Sully's  custom,  the 
description  might  have  come  from  the  pen  of  her 
husband's  friend,  sincerely  convinced  that  she  was  a 
fellow-mourner.  In  what  follows  the  irony  breaks 


220  The  Making  of  a  King 

through  its  thin  disguise.  So  different,  he  goes  on 
to  say,  are  appearances  often  from  reality,  that,  sur- 
mounting all  grief  and  subduing  the  violence  of  her 
sufferings,  she  allowed  no  sign  of  them  to  appear 
in  public,  forcing  her  eyes  to  restrain  their  tears, 
and,  the  more  to  conceal  her  desolation,  curbing  her 
inclination  to  seek  those  places  of  sadness  and  melan- 
choly where  alone  she  could  find  pleasure,  and  re- 
maining almost  all  day  with  Court  and  Council  in  a 
decorated  chamber  glittering  with  gold  and  silver  and 
purple  ;  where  she  was  compelled  to  listen  to  outbursts 
of  laughter  and  shouts  of  rejoicing  from  those  who 
hoped  to  profit  by  the  calamity.  To  all  she  was  an 
object  of  admiration,  owing  to  the  control  she  exercised 
over  her  suffering  spirit,  scarcely  a  trace  of  it  appearing 
in  countenance  or  words. 

Whilst  his  mother  passed  her  days  in  the  fashion 
thus  indicated,  the  shock  of  his  father's  murder  had 
produced  upon  the  imagination  of  the  little  King  an 
effect  not  easily  effaced,  and  he  continued  to  be  haunted 
by  the  suggestion  it  contained  of  danger  to  himself. 
Taken  to  church  on  Sunday,  he  directed  the  guards 
by  whom  he  was  accompanied  to  place  themselves  on 
either  side  of  his  carriage,  appealing  to  them  to  attend 
to  their  duty. 

"  Guard  me  well/'  he  would  entreat,  "  lest  they 
should  kill  me  as  they  have  killed  the  King,  my 
father." 

At  night,  too,  dreams  of  assassination  would  visit 
the  nervous  child  ;  and,  waking,  he  would  fall  into 
reveries  attracting  the  attention  of  his  attendants. 

"  C'est  que  je  songeois,"  he  told  his  nurse,  when 


Louis's  Fears  221 

she  strove  to  rouse  him  from  one  of  these  fits  of 
abstraction.  Then,  after  another  pause,  "  Doundoun, 
it  is  that  I  would  that  the  King,  my  father,  had 
lived  for  twenty  years.  Ah,  the  m&chant  who  killed 
him  !  "  "  I  wish  " — he  said  another  time  wistfully 
to  Madame  de  Montglat — "  I  wish  I  had  not  so  soon 
become  King,  and  that  the  King,  my  father,  were  still 
alive." 

It  was  not  unnatural  that  fears  for  his  personal 
safety  should  have  clouded  the  child's  mind  and 
mingled  with  less  selfish  regrets.  Not  only  was  Paris 
pervaded  by  a  curious  terror,  as  if  the  murder  had 
affected  men's  nerves  ;  but — a  common  result  of  a 
notorious  crime — others  had  been,  so  to  speak,  fired  by 
Ravaillac's  example,  and  had  been  set  musing  on  like 
achievements.  A  knife  bearing  the  inscription,  "  I  will 
do  it  in  my  turn,"  was  found  in  the  possession  of  a 
freemason  said  to  be  in  communication  with  the 
Archduke.  A  soldier  belonging  to  the  palace  guard, 
rendered  reckless  by  losses  at  the  gaming-table,  was 
heard  to  boast  that,  had  Henri  not  been  already  dead, 
he  would  have  slain  both  King  and  Queen  ;  and  a 
comrade  was  arrested  on  the  charge  of  having  declared, 
pointing  to  Louis,  that  he  wished  his  dagger  were  in 
the  heart  of  the  last  of  the  race. 

Stories  such  as  these — due  probably  to  the  vagaries 
of  drunkards  or  of  madmen  whose  diseased  imagination 
had  been  coloured  by  the  event  which  was  in  all  men's 
mouths— may  easily,  coming  to  the  ears  of  the  boy, 
have  caused  him  to  ponder  anxiously  over  the  dangers 
he  ran  as  he  played  as  usual  with  his  toys,  or  took  his 
lace,  with  a  gravity  and  patience  surprising  to  foreign 


222  The  Making  of  a  King 

ambassadors,  at  his  mother's  side,  giving  audience  to 
envoys  and  nobles,  and  sharing  with  decorum  in  the 
pageantry  of  State. 

However  well  he  mtght  perform  his  part,  the 
services  of  the  soothsayers  who  were  so  busily  plying 
their  trade  would  not  have  been  necessary  to  enable 
an  observer  to  predict  coming  trouble  under  the  new 
system  of  government.  It  is  true  that,  in  the  initiation 
of  her  rule,  Marie  de  Medicis  took  those  who  watched 
her  by  surprise,  and  displayed  qualities  for  which  few 
would  have  given  her  credit,  exhibiting  an  energy  and 
determination  not  to  be  expected  from  a  woman  so 
little  experienced  in  the  transaction  of  public  business. 
But  that  very  determination  and  energy  could  not  fail 
to  bring  her  into  conflict  with  others  claiming  to 
exercise  an  influence  in  public  affairs.  Having  attained 
the  summit  of  her  ambition  and  possessing  supreme 
power  in  the  State,  she  did  not  intend  to  barter  it 
for  ease  or  tranquillity,  nor  to  act  the  part — as  she 
told  the  Comte  de  Soissons  plainly — of  a  mere  Madame 
de  Montglat,  charged  with  the  care  of  her  son's 
person  and  leaving  it  to  others  to  steer  the  vessel. 
Marie  de  Medicis  meant  to  rule. 

There  were,  however,  obstacles  in  the  way  of  the 
accomplishment  of  her  purpose.  The  attitude  assumed 
by  Soissons  himself,  who  had  hurried  back  to  the  capital 
on  receiving  tidings  of  the  catastrophe,  and  the  con- 
cessions he  had  wrung  from  her,  was  an  earnest  of 
the  difficulties  with  which  a  woman  wholly  unused  to 
the  conduct  of  weighty  affairs  or  to  the  management 
of  men  would  be  forced  to  contend.  Professing,  with 
tears,  his  loyalty  to  the  Queen  and  her  son,  the  Count 


The  Princes  of  the  Blood  223 

had  at  once  advanced  a  demand  to  be  made  the  King's 
Lieutenant-General  throughout  the  realm,  and,  though 
Marie  was  resolute  in  her  refusal  to  accede  to  his 
desire,  she  unwisely  sought  to  propitiate  him  by  the 
post  of  Governor  of  Normandy,  usually  held  by  the 
Dauphin,  and  vacated  by  Louis's  accession  to  the  throne; 
his  son  was  promised  the  government  of  Dauphiny,  and 
large  sums  of  money  were  allotted  for  the  payment  of 
his  debts. 

The  result  was  at  once  apparent.  Conde  had  not 
had  time  to  return  from  Milan,  where  the  news  had 
found  him  ;  but  Conti,  Soissons's  elder  brother,  was 
enraged,  and  Guise,  with  all  the  house  of  Lorraine, 
took  the  Prince's  part  with  so  much  violence  that  it 
was  necessary  to  keep  the  palace  guard  under  arms, 
lest  discontent  should  burst  into  open  violence.  Paris, 
moreover,  always  an  uncertain  factor  in  party  strife,  was 
soon  to  develop  a  causeless  and  disquieting  liking  for 
Conde,  chief  of  the  Princes  of  the  Blood. 

Meantime,  whilst  the  struggle  for  the  sceptre  he  had 
dropped  went    on,    Henri-Quatre   lay  unburied.     On 
June     25    the    first    ceremony    connected    with    his 
bsequies   took    place  ;    and,    having    been    taken    to 

e   Hotel  de   Longueville  at  midday,   Louis   walked 
k    in    procession    to   the    Louvre,   to    sprinkle    his 

ther's    body   with  holy  water  as   it  lay  in    state    in 
the  lower  hall  of  the  palace. 

As  he  passed  on,  the  central  figure  in  the  pageant, 
dressed  in  purple  and  the  long  train  of  his  hooded 
cloak  borne  by  the  Princes  of  the  Blood,  it  was  observed 
that,  though  his  little  brothers,  terrified  by  the  funeral 
array,  never  ceased  sobbing,  he  did  not  shed  a  tear. 


224  The  Making  of  a  King 

Yet  the  impression  stamped  upon  the  boy's  mind  by 
the  ceremony  was  shown  by  his  entreaty  when,  a  year 
or  two  later,  little  Orleans  had  gone  to  join  his  father, 
that  he  might  not  be  obliged  to  perform  a  similar  office 
by  him. 

Four  days  afterwards  the  body  of  the  King  was 
removed  from  the  palace  on  its  way  to  his  place  of 
sepulture,  the  occasion  being  disgraced  by  brawls  within 
the  precincts  of  the  Louvre  itself,  which  testified  to  the 
absence  of  discipline  and  authority  reigning  there. 

"  The  body  of  the  late  King  was  to  be  taken  away," 
records  H£roard  with  graphic  simplicity.  "  There  was 
much  dissension  amongst  the  hundred  gentlemen  and 
the  bodyguard,  who  nearly  came  to  blows.  The  King 
comes  out  on  to  a  balcony  leading  from  the  small 
staircase  to  the  great  hall,  and  looks  on  for  more  than 
half  an  hour  at  what  was  doing  in  the  courtyard.  His 
guide  [sic]  was  told  of  it,  and  he  is  removed.  M.  de 
Gondi,  Bishop  of  Paris,  disputes  precedence  with  the 
Court  of  Parlement  ;  the  Court  at  last  pushes  him  in 
front.  The  body  leaves  the  Louvre  at  half-past  six  ; 
arrives  at  nine  at  Notre  Dame." 

On  the  following  day  the  body  of  Henri-Quatre 
was  borne  to  his  last  resting-place  amongst  the  Kings 
of  France  at  Saint-Denis. 

"  The  King  is  dead.  Pray  God  for  his  soul  !  "  the 
herald  cried  in  mournful  accents  from  the  vault  to 
which  the  body  was  lowered,  and,  as  the  proclamation 
was  heard,  almost  all  present  were  moved  to  tears. 
Then,  from  the  same  herald,  still  below,  rose  the  cry, 
"  Long  live  Louis  XIII.,  King,  by  the  grace  of  God,  of 
France  and  of  Navarre."  Caught  up  by  a  second  voice 


Proclamation  of  Louis  XIII 


225 


in  the  choir  above,  the  words  were  greeted  by  a  blare 
of  trumpets  and  fifes,  with  the  beating  of  drums,  and 
all  was  over. 

The  King  was  dead.  Much  had  died  with  him. 
The  wise  administration,  the  great  reign,  of  Henri- 
Quatre  was  over.  France  was  to  be,  to  use  Michelet's 
phrase,  "  retournee  comme  un  gant." 


CHAPTER   XVIII 
1610 

Rival  forces  in  the  State  —  Condi's  return  —  Louis  and  his  gouverneur  — 
His  position  and  training  —  Unlikeness  to  his  father  —  His  love  for 
him  —  Pierrot  at  Court. 


reversal  of  the  late  King's  policy  was  the  natural 
A  and  inevitable  result  of  the  Queen's  supremacy. 
Italian  by  blood,  Spanish  in  sympathy,  dominated  by 
Tuscan  favourites  to  whom  France  was  merely  a  means 
of  fortune  and  rank,  the  welfare  of  the  country  could 
not  fail  to  be  subordinated  to  her  personal  interests 
and  tastes  —  tastes  and  interests  in  almost  every  respect 
differing  from  those  of  Henri-Quatre. 

In  setting  to  work  to  carry  out  the  projects  she  had 
at  heart,  Marie  de  Medici  probably  under-estimated 
the  difficulties  she  would  encounter,  indulging  that 
happy  confidence  in  her  own  powers  and  capabilities 
commonly  found  in  those  who  have  never  been 
called  upon  to  put  them  to  a  practical  test.  She  had 
to  learn  that  the  art  of  government  does  not  consist 
alone  in  the  possession  of  a  strong  will  and  a  deter- 
mination to  rule.  To  command  is  one  thing  ;  to 
enforce  obedience  is  another  and  a  harder  matter. 

The  management  of  the  forces  at   work   in   France 

during     the     period     following     upon     Henri's     death 

226 


t>'rotn  an  engraving  bv  Nicolas  de  Mathoniere,  after  a  painting  by  F.  Quesnei 

LOUIS    XIII.    AND    THE    REGENT    MARIE    DE    MEDICIS. 

226] 


228  The  Making  of  a  King 

he  come  as  a  friend  or  an  enemy  ?  The  question  was 
at  least  provisionally  answered  on  July  16,  when  at  six 
o'clock  in  the  evening  he  entered  Paris,  attended 
by  '  some  two  hundred*  horsemen,  and  met,  with 
the  Queen's  permission,  by  the  Due  de  Bellegarde 
and  the  Due  d'Epernon,  each  with  a  considerable  train. 
The  windows  of  the  houses,  as  he  rode  through  the 
streets,  were  crowded  with  spectators.  He  had  left 
Paris  a  fugitive,  almost  a  rebel.  He  returned  in 
triumph  ;  stopping  on  his  way  to  visit  Saint-Denis  and 
have  Mass  said  there  for  the  man  who  had,  in  effect, 
driven  him  forth.  And  so,  peace  having  been  made 
with  his  vanquished  enemy,  he  entered  the  capital. 

At  the  Louvre  he  was  anxiously  awaited.  As  the 
little  King  noted  the  crowd  that  went  forth  to  meet 
his  cousin  the  old  spirit  of  jealousy  awakened  within 
him.  Was  the  Chevalier  de  Vendome  also  going  ? 
he  inquired  as  he  accorded  permission  to  some  other 
of  his  household  who  had  come  to  ask  it  ;  receiving 
the  Chevalier's  contemptuous  disclaimer  of  any  such 
intention  with  manifest  satisfaction.  "  You  give  me 
pleasure  when  you  speak  like  that,"  he  told  him. 

All  was  ready  for  the  Prince,  whether  he  came  in 
amity  or  in  hostility.  The  oath  had  been  adminis- 
tered afresh  to  the  marshals  ;  the  captains  of  the 
guard  had  been  enjoined  to  take  no  orders  save  from 
the  King,  the  Queen,  or  their  own  colonels  ;  the 
citizens  had  been  directed  to  arm.  Precautions  proved 
unnecessary.  Without  waiting  so  much  as  to  change 
his  dress,  the  Prince  repaired  to  the  palace,  and  was 
there  received  by  the  King  and  his  mother.  In 
the  presence  of  a  throng  of  courtiers,  he  bent  .the 


Return  of  Concte  229 

knee  so  low  that  some  said  it  had  touched  the  ground, 
and  was  embraced  twice  over  by  both.  The  formal 
meeting  over,  the  Queen  led  the  way  into  her  private 
chamber  and  there  continued  for  a  few  minutes  in 
converse  with  him,  Soissons,  Vendome  and  the  few 
who  had  been  admitted  remaining  discreetly  out  of 
earshot ;  with  the  exception  of  the  Cardinal  de  Sourdis, 
who  approached  the  speakers  more  closely. 

"  Go  and  tell  that  Prince  of  your  blood  to  take  him- 
self off/'  said  Soissons,  jesting,  to  Vendome,  connected 
with  the  Cardinal  through  his  mother. 

The  interview  over,  Marie  directed  the  Prince  to  go 
and  unboot  himself  and  to  return  to  the  palace.  That 
night,  as  first  Prince  of  the  Blood,  he  gave  the  King 
his  shirt.  The  fears  he  had  roused  were  allayed.  The 
Queen  was  at  least  to  be  permitted  to  take  breath 
before  being  called  upon  to  grapple  with  the  leader  of 
the  rival  forces  in  the  State. 

With  the  dead  King,  the  single  figure  possessing 
intrinsic  greatness,  or  making  an  appeal  to  the  imagina- 
tion, had  passed  from  the  French  stage.  Amongst 
those  who  remain,  Sully  excepted,  it  is  difficult  to 
discover  any  single  character  commanding  admiration 
or  respect  ;  and  this  fact  should  be  taken  into  account 
in  considering  the  position  of  the  new  sovereign.  His 
father  gone — great,  in  spite  of  his  littleness — there 
seems  to  have  been  none  near  to  whom  Louis  would 
naturally  have  looked  up. 

From  first  to  last  he  was  indeed  singularly  unfor- 
tunate in  this  respect.  Few  there  were  he  could  respect, 
whom  he  could  love.  Whether  or  not,  in  chile}- 


230  The  Making  "of  a  King 

hood,  he  loved  his  mother  is  difficult  to  determine. 
Even  between  mother  and  son  a  barrier  was  interposed 
by  court  etiquette.  Signs  of  tenderness  on  her  part 
appear  to  have  been  rare,  since  Balzac  was  told  by 
a  courtier  that,  during  the  four  years  covered  by  the 
Regency,  she  had  never  once  kissed  him.  The  state- 
ment may  or  may  not  have  been  accurate  ;  in  any  case 
that  it  should  have  been  credible  is  significant  of  the 
terms  existing  between  the  two.  True  affection,  how- 
ever, may  be  combined  with  a  minimum  of  demonstra- 
tion, and  it  should  be  remembered  that  Henri  would 
charge  his  wife  in  jest,  with  being  the  least  caressing  of 
women.  Of  her  solicitude  concerning  her  son's  health 
and  safety  there  can  be  no  question.  He  was  constantly 
under  her  own  eye,  and,  from  the  time  of  his  father's 
murder,  slept  in  her  bedchamber.  But  she  was  a 
stern  woman,  and  the  severity  of  her  discipline, 
coupled  with  the  absence  of  signs  of  affection,  was 
not  calculated  to  endear  her  to  the  victim. 

With  regard  to  others,  it  has  been  seen  that  Louis's 
training  at  Saint-Germain  had  not  been  of  a  sort  to 
foster  the  habit  of  respect  for  lawful  authority  ;  nor 
in  his  relations  with  his  gouverneur  is  much  trace  of 
amendment  to  be  found.  If  he  yielded  him  obedience 
it  was  rather  because  it  was  enforced  by  the  rod  than 
from  more  worthy  reasons  ;  and  there  were  outbreaks 
of  insolence  on  the  boy's  part  indicative  of  an  under- 
current of  dislike  kept  in  check  by  fear.  Nor  does 
Souvre  appear  to  have  been  a  man  to  inspire  respect. 
It  is  true  that  the  editors  of  Heroard's  journal 
point  with  satisfaction  to  his  condemnation  of  a  coarse 
expression  used  by  one  of  Louis's  boy  companions  ; 


The  King  and  his  Qouoerneur  231 

but  though  he  may  have  been  strict  as  to  manners, 
the  nature  of  the  influence  he  was  likely  to  exert 
in  matters  of  taste  and  morality  may  be  inferred 
from  a  conversation  on  the  subject  of  certain  songs 
the  boy  had  caused  to  be  sung  to  him  ;  the 
gouverneur  inquiring  whether  he  had  not  called  for 
those  commemorating  his  dead  father's  loves  for  the 
Princesse  de  Conde  and  others. 

"  No,"  replied  Louis,  adding  brusquely,  pressed  for 
his  reasons,  "  I  do  not  like  them." 

He  had  an  instinctive  distaste — singular  when  the 
fashion  of  his  bringing  up  and  the  customs  of  the  day 
are  remembered — for  coarseness. 

"  Ouy  les  vilaines  !  "  he  said,  turning  his  back  with 
a  look  of  anger  on  Concini,  who  had  hazarded  a  jest 
of  the  kind.  "  Serium  et  pudiceum  responsum,"  wrote 
Heroard  approvingly,  as  he  noted  the  occurrence. 

If  Souvre  was  not  a  man  to  fall  into  the  mistake 
made  by  the  Italian  in  outraging  his  charge's  natural 
instincts  of  refinement,  trifling  incidents  constantly 
prove  the  unsatisfactory  nature  of  their  relationship. 
Thus  Louis  is  found  taking  a  seat  beside  the  gouverneur 
with  the  sole  object  of  forcing  him,  in  deference  to 
court  etiquette,  to  rise  ;  Souvre's  irritation,  on  the 
repetition  of  the  trick,  showing  that  he  divined  and 
resented  its  motive. 

"  You  have  come  to  make  me  stand  up,"  he  told 
the  boy  ;  "  but  I  shall  not  do  it,  for  all  that." 

"  You  should  not  equal  yourself  to  me,"  replied 
Louis,  loftily  if  inapropos. 

"  You  have  your  hat  on,"  he  told  Souvre  sharply  on 
Another  occasion. 


232  The  Making  of  a  King 

"  Yes,  and  I  shall  not  take  it  off  to  you  now," 
answered  the  gouverneur^  with  an  undignified  display 
of  temper.  "  It  is  not  that  I  do  not  know  what  I  owe 
you,  which  is  a  thousand  limes  more.  You  can  com- 
plain to  the  Queen." 

Frequently  the  same  lack  of  cordiality  is  apparent. 

c<  One  would  have  to  be  a  great  fool  to  believe 
that,'*  returned  Louis,  with  contemptuous  insolence, 
when  his  inquiries  as  to  Souvre's  skill  as  a  marksman 
had  elicited  what  sounded  like  a  boast.  Nor  would 
he,  another  time,  mount  his  horse,  lest  the  gouverneur 
should  ride  his  second  nag. 

If  Souvre  had  failed  to  win  the  affections  of  his 
charge,  Louis  displayed  a  certain  liking  for  his  tutor, 
Des  Yveteaux.  Yet,  though  he  may  have  condoned 
his  shortcomings,  it  would  seem  that  he  had  detected 
and  taxed  him  with  them  ;  for,  put  upon  his  defence, 
the  tutor  is  found  observing,  with  manifest  acrimony, 
that  though  he  might  not  be  amongst  the  most  learned, 
neither  was  he  common  or  vulgar,  or  he  would  not 
have  held  his  present  position. 

Saint- Simon  asserts  that  the  boy  was  kept  purposely 
ignorant.  The  charge  is  unsupported.  As  he  grew 
older,  the  Queen,  anxious  to  retain  the  direction  of 
affairs,  may  have  discouraged  him  from  taking  an 
interest  in  serious  business.  But  he  was  steadily,  if  not 
rigorously,  compelled  to  apply  himself  to  his  studies  ; 
and  if  Des  Yveteaux  was  not  a  competent  instructor, 
it  was  Henri-Quatre,  and  not  his  wife,  who  had  chosen 
him  for  the  post. 

Looked  at  from  almost  any  point  of  view,  the  fate 
of  a  child  who  is  an  important  asset  in  a  great  game  of 


Childhood  Shortened  233 

hazard  is  a  melancholy  one.  It  was  the  obvious  interest 
of  those  in  power  to  exclude  from  Louis's  life  all  ties 
of  intimacy  or  affection  liable  to  endanger  their  personal 
supremacy  in  the  future — to  narrow,  in  the  words  of 
Saint-Simon,  his  prison  and  render  him  more  and  more 
inaccessible  to  others.  At  the  same  time,  and  some- 
what inconsistently,  his  childhood  was  relentlessly 
shortened.  He  loved  toys  and  playthings — save  in 
the  matter  of  hunting  and  painting  he  was,  in  the 
words  of  a  contemporary  observer,  "  enfant,  enfan- 
tissime."  Again  and  again  Souvre  is  found  reproaching 
him  with  his  childishness  ;  and  on  one  occasion,  reluc- 
tantly assenting  to  the  justice  of  the  gouverneurs 
reproofs,  he  made  up  his  cherished  possessions  into  a 
package,  to  be  handed  over  to  his  little  brother.  Childish 
games  were  also,  if  not  forbidden,  discouraged  by 
Souvre,  and  Louis  bowed  to  the  decision. 

"  But  one  must  do  something,"  he  added,  rather 
pitifully.  "  Tell  me  what  to  do,  and  I  will  do  it." 

This,  it  is  true,  was  a  year  later  ;  but  his  father 
was  no  sooner  dead  than  it  was  the  endeavour  of 
those  in  authority  that  he  should  leave  childhood 
behind. 

"  They  want  to  make  a  man  of  him,"  reported  the 
Tuscan  Secretary,  Scipione  Ammirato,  "  and  as  he  has 
many  little  children  of  his  own  age  as  companions, 
they  wish  to  remove  them,  which  will  annoy  him  very 
much  at  first,  as  he  has  been  used  to  amuse  himself 
with  them." 

Marie  de  Medicis,  one  would  have  thought,  had  little 
reason  to  desire  to  curtail  the  period  of  her  supremacy  ; 
she  told  him,  one  evening  as  he  was  being  put  to 


234  The  Making-  of  a  King 

bed,  that  she  wished  she  could  pull  out  his  arms  and 
legs  so  as  to  make  him  grow  faster. 

14  A  quoi  bon  ?  "  answered  Louis,  with  precocious 
wisdom,  "  since  my  mind  would  not  grow  at  the  same 
time." 

Already  he  was  treated  as  if  his  voice  was  of  weight 
in  the  conduct  of  affairs  ;  already,  also,  he  was  learning 
caution  in  the  expression  of  his  opinion.  The  young 
Due  de  Rohan,  taking  leave  of  him  before  joining  the 
forces  sent — with  a  show  of  carrying  out  the  late  King's 
intentions — to  assist  the  Protestant  princes  in  gaining 
possession  of  Cleves  and  Juliers,  asked  for  a  message 
to  take  to  the  Commander-in-Chief. 

"  Tell  him  to  do  the  best  he  can,"  was  the  boy's 
reply,  wisely  vague. 

u  But,  Sire,"  persisted  the  questioner — he  was  Sully's 
son-in-law,  and  would  have  his  heart  in  the  fight — "  is 
it  your  pleasure  that  he  should  give  battle  ?  ' 

Louis  still  refused  to  commit  himself  to  a  definite 
opinion. 

"  Let  him  do  the  best  he  can,"  he  repeated. 

He  may  have  shrewdly  divined  that  his  pleasure 
would  have  little  to  do  with  the  operations  to  be  carried 
on  in  the  field.  Clear-sighted  and  sagacious,  in  spite 
of  the  incense  habitually  offered  him,  he  was  not 
easily  taken  in  by  flattery.  When  his  tutor  in- 
structed him,  in  courtly  fashion,  that,  according  to 
Plato,  the  gods  were  above  Kings  in  the  same  way 
that  Kings  were  above  other  men,  he  was  quick  to 
point  out  the  difference. 

44  There  is  only  one  God,"  he  answered  sharply, 
*c  there  are  many  Kings  "  ;  and  again,  a  passage  in  a 


£ 


Louis's  Dislike  of  Flattery  235 

Roman  newspaper  having  been  read  aloud  to  him  com- 
mending his  own  intelligence  and  gifts,  he  put  the 
suggestion  that  he  should  hear  it  a  second  time 
impatiently  aside.  To  himself  words  did  not  come 
easily.  "  You  know  very  well  that  I  am  not  a  great 
talker  " — grand  parleur — he  said,  when  M.  de  Souvre 
would  complain  of  his  lack  of  admiration  for  what 
was  beautiful. 

Of  his  rank,  of  his  station,  of  the  respect  due  to 
him,  he  thought  much  ;  there  is  no  evidence  that  he 
over-estimated  himself  personally ;  and  he  detected,  with 
some  humour,  the  emptiness  of  the  outward  tokens 
of  reverence  paid  him.  He  would  rather  have  fewer 
obeisances  and  not  be  whipped,  he  observed,  corporal 
punishment  having  been  administered  by  his  mother's 
orders,  the  Queen  afterwards  receiving  him  with  the 
exaggerated  signs  of  deference  she  never  failed  to 
show. 

Not  only  at  Rome,  but  elsewhere,  the  gifts,  character, 
and  tendencies  of  the  little  King  were  discussed  with 
interest  by  those  they  might  in  the  future  affect. 
Cioli,  the  Florentine  envoy,  sent  home  minute  accounts. 
Though  Louis  might  outwardly  resemble  his  mother, 
it  was  the  Italian's  opinion  that  he  displayed  a 
likeness  in  other  ways  to  his  dead  father.  Heroard, 
with  more  opportunities  for  forming  a  judgment, 
thought  the  same.  Yet,  save  in  a  boy's  natural 
leaning  towards  outdoor  pursuits,  hunting  or  hawking, 

e  absence   of  any   inclination  to   idleness,    his    inde- 

tigable  energy,  and  a  liking  for  warlike  games 
nd  lead  soldiers,  it  is  difficult  to  see  where  the 

milarity  lay. 


236  The  Making  of  a  King 

A  certain  dignity  of  demeanour,  quiet  and  cold, 
remarkable  in  so  young  a  child,  was  certainly  not 
inherited  from  Henri-Quatre.  He  could  show 
himself  capable  of  keeping  order,  and  of  making  his 
authority  felt ;  and  voices  having  been  unduly  raised 
in  the  presence-chamber  on  one  occasion,  he  told 
the  nobles  who  filled  it  to  make  less  noise,  and  his 
command  was  obeyed. 

"  Eh  bien  /  M.  le  Cardinal  de  Sourdis,"  he  said 
another  time,  his  eminence,  on  entering,  having  made 
obeisance  only  to  the  Queen,  "  you  look  upon  me,  then, 
as  a  child  ? " 

Nor  were  these  incidents  mere  accidents.  A  scene 
taking  place  a  year  or  two  later  shows  that  the  tendency 
they  indicated  was  growing  to  be  a  settled  purpose. 
Souvre,  when  the  boy  was  to  go  for  a  drive,  had 
inquired  whom  he  wished  to  share  his  carriage  ? 
"  The  King  makes  no  reply.  Asked  the  same  question 
several  times,  still  the  same  silence.  M.  de  Souvre 
says  at  last,  <  Sire,  here  is  M.  de  la  Force,  captain  of 
the  guard.  Is  it  your  pleasure  that  he  should  enter  ?  * 
The  King  says  not  a  word.  (  Sire,  the  captains  of 
your  guard  used  to  do  this  in  the  time  of  the  late 
King,  your  father.'  *  They  accustomed  themselves  to 
do  it,  little  by  little.  Little  by  little,  I  will  make  them 
lose  the  habit.'  '  Such  was  the  boy's  reply. 

The  anecdote  presents  him  in  a  light  contrasting 
curiously  with  the  careless  friendliness  of  Henri's  bear- 
ing towards  his  servants  ;  though  the  line  he  took  up  in 
this  particular  instance  may  have  been  partly  explained 
by  the  instinctive  craving  for  a  certain  amount  of 
solitude  which  he  had  already  shown. 


Louis's  Affections  237 

Like  or  unlike  his  father,  the  love  he  had  borne 
him  was  not  quickly  forgotten.  More  than  a  year 
after  Henri's  death — a  year  crowded  with  new  interests 
and  excitement — he  was  listening,  with  the  Due  de 
Vendome,  to  music,  a  song  alluding  to  the  late  King 
having  been  chosen.  At  the  words — 

Dessous  la  loi 
D'un  si  grand  roi — 

Louis  turned  away  in  tears.  Vendome,  too,  was 
weeping. 

Notwithstanding  his  capacity  for  strong  attachments, 
he  had  hitherto  displayed  little  preference  for  any 
person  about  the  Court,  with  the  exception  of  the 
younger  Vendome  brother.  The  Chevalier  he  loved, 
and  though,  in  the  course  of  the  summer  following  upon 
his  father's  death,  Alexandre  was  to  have  gone  to  join 
his  brother  in  Brittany,  Louis  wept  so  bitterly  that  the 
arrangement  was  cancelled.  His  own  little  brothers 
and  sisters  remained  at  Saint-Germain,  and  meetings 
were  comparatively  rare.  That  he  clung  to  the 
memory  of  the  childish  years  passed  at  the  chateau 
was  shown  when,  one  August  day,  a  peasant  lad 
named  Pierrot,  with  whom  he  had  then  been  accus- 
tomed to  play,  suddenly  appeared  at  the  Tuileries, 
where  Louis  was  standing,  surrounded  by  courtiers, 
watching  the  pond. 

Pierrot,  it  seemed,  had  made  his  way  from  Saint- 
Germain  to  Paris  with  the  express  purpose  of  visiting 
"  M.  le  Dauphin,"  and  bringing  him  a  gift  of  some 
sparrows.  Recognising  his  old  playmate,  Louis  ran  up 

the  boy,  threw  his  arms  round  him  and   kissed  him. 


238  The  Making  of  a  King 

Proper  clothes,  he  said,  should  be  given  him,  and  he 
should  remain  at  Court.  The  boy,  however,  declined 
the  proffered  honour.  He  must  go  home  ;  otherwise 
he  would  be  beaten,  for  •  his  father  and  mother  had 
not  been  willing  that  he  should  go  to  Paris  to  see 
M.  le  Dauphin  ;  and  Louis,  who  had  doubtless  hoped 
to  secure  a  playfellow,  had  no  alternative  but  to  let 
him  go. 

Such  was  the  boy — a  mixture  of  sagacity,  precocious 
knowledge  of  the  world,  reserve,  pride,  coldness,  self- 
consciousness,  and  childishness — who,  at  eight  years  old, 
was  deprived  of  the  guidance  and  authority  of  his 
father,  and  left  to  the  care  of  Marie  de  Medicis  and 
the  counsellors  she  gathered  about  her. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
1610-11 

Policy  of  the  Government — Unrest  in  Paris — Concini  dominant — The 
Duke  de  Feria's  mission — The  King's  coronation — Louis  and 
Cond6 — Sully's  dismissal — Rumours  of  war. 

THE  coronation  of  Louis  XIII.  was  to  take  place 
in  October.  Meantime  the  views  of  those  ad- 
ministering the  government  in  his  name  were  becoming 
increasingly  clear.  Summoned  to  a  meeting  of  the 
secret  council  on  a  certain  morning,  Sully  found  a 
debate  going  on  well  calculated  to  enlighten  him,  had 
he  needed  enlightenment,  as  to  what  the  future  had  in 
store.  The  question  at  issue  had  reference  to  the 
course  to  be  pursued  towards  Savoy.  That  State,  in 
consequence  of  the  persuasions  of  the  late  King,  and 
relying  upon  his  support,  had  taken  the  step  of  declaring 
openly  against  Spain,  and  Sully  now  expressed  himself, 
with  uncompromising  directness,  as  to  the  duty  of  France 
towards  her  ally.  The  conception  of  the  Queen  and 
her  other  counsellors  of  that  duty  did  not  coincide  with 
his.  The  matter,  Marie  informed  him,  had  been  under 
discussion,  and  she,  with  those  present,  had  determined 
that,  care  being  taken  not  to  destroy  the  hopes  of 
the  Duke  of  Savoy  until  the  proper  moment,  an 
:tempt  should  be  made  to  establish  peaceful  relations 
rith  Spain  by  means  of  the  double  marriage. 

239 


240  The  Making  of  a  King 

It  was  more  natural  than  prudent  that,  to  this 
exposition  of  a  nascent  policy  so  wholly  at  variance 
with  his  dead  master's  views,  as  well  as  with  his  loyal 
and  straightforward  methods,»Sully  should  have  at  first 
merely  replied  by  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders.  Pressed 
to  speak  by  the  Queen,  he  repeated  his  opinion  that 
good  faith  should  be  kept  with  Savoy.  But  the  time 
was  past  when  either  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders  or 
reasoned  arguments  on  the  part  of  Sully  would  avail  to 
alter  the  course  of  events. 

In  the  meantime  Paris  was  pervaded  by  a  spirit  of 
uneasiness  and  unrest.  Everybody  was  alarmed.  No 
one  could  precisely  specify  their  cause  of  fear.  The 
weak-minded  were  once  again  terrified  by  vague 
prophecies  of  coming  catastrophes.  The  Paris  militia 
was  placed  under  arms,  the  palace  was  closely  guarded. 
The  Princes  of  the  Blood  rode  through  the  streets 
strongly  escorted.  Some  people  apprehended  a  fresh 
St.  Bartholomew.  Bouillon  believed,  or  affected  to 
believe,  that  it  was  necessary  for  his  safety  to  sleep 
under  Conde's  roof.  Sully  had  hundreds  of  armed 
men  at  hand  in  case  of  need. 

Whilst  the  citizens  of  Paris  had  been  eager  to  give 
proof  of  their  loyalty  towards  the  son  of  their  dead 
King,  other  classes  of  the  community  had  been  more 
remiss.  Conde  was  popular  at  the  moment,  and  nobles 
and  courtiers  showed  so  great  a  disposition  to  attach 
themselves  by  preference  to  the  royal  Princes  that  it 
was  observed  that  the  King  was,  in  comparison,  thinly 
attended — a  state  of  things  his  mother  set  herself  at 
once,  with  success,  to  remedy.  It  was  essential  to 
maintain  the  prestige  of  the  Crown. 


Concini's  Advancement  241 

Concini's  power  and  influence  was  becoming  more 
and  more  apparent  as  the  weeks  of  that  hot  summer 
went  by.  His  ambition,  it  was  true,  was  more  personal 
than  political.  He  wanted  power  ;  he  wanted — perhaps 
more — money.  Therefore  he  wished  the  Queen  to 
have  her  way  ;  he  was  jealous  of  any  one  who  could 
be  suspected  of  exercising  a  counter-influence,  either 
over  her  or  the  little  King.  The  great  issues  at  stake, 
the  destinies  of  France  or  of  Europe,  were  of  minor 
importance. 

At  present  there  was  no  one  who  could  compete 
with  him,  or  rather,  with  him  and  his  wife.  His 
position  had  been  secured  by  his  admission  into 
the  Council  of  State,  at  which  his  attendance  had 
hitherto  been  of  an  informal  character  ;  in  August  he 
was  to  become  Marquis  d'Ancre,  and  was,  further, 
to  obtain  the  government  of  Peronne,  Roye,  and 
Montdidier.  He  had,  indeed,  aspired  to  the  charge 
of  Calais,  but  there  were  difficulties  in  the  way.  A 
claimant  with  a  better  right  to  the  post,  and  determined 
not  to  abandon  it  to  a  foreign  adventurer,  stated  openly 
that  he  would  first  perform  his  religious  duties  and 
then  proceed  to  kill  Concini,  were  he  to  find  him  in 
the  Queen's  arms.  Marie  took  the  hint;  the  important 
post  was  not  entrusted  to  her  favourite. 

Though,  however,  the  Italian  might  be  said  to  have 
no  friends  in  France  save  the  Queen,  there  were  few 
who,  at  this  juncture,  did  not  consider  it  necessary  to 
disguise  their  hatred.  The  King's  minority  would  not 
last  for  ever  ;  and,  apart  from  this,  history  had  taught 
those  astute  enough  to  learn  patience  from  it  that 
the  prosperity  of  a  favourite  is  not  likely  to  be 

16 


242  The  Making  of  a  King 

prolonged.     It  was,  therefore,  safest  to  dissemble  and 
to  await  developments. 

If  the  rule  of  a  Regent  was,  by  the  nature  of  things, 
temporary,  its  consequences  rtfight  be  made  lasting,  and 
from  the  first  it  was  the  Queen's  endeavour  to  lay  the 
foundations  of  that  alliance  with  Spain  upon  which  she 
had  been  always  bent.  When,  in  September,  the  Duke 
de  Feria  arrived  from  Spain  as  Envoy-extraordinary, 
entrusted  with  the  duty  of  presenting  the  belated 
condolences  of  his  master  upon  the  late  King's  murder, 
nothing  was  wanting  on  her  part  to  do  him  honour. 
By  the  public  the  guest  was  regarded  with  mingled 
feelings.  The  choice  of  the  Ambassador  had  not  been 
fortunate,  so  far  as  Parisian  sentiment  was  concerned, 
and  Lestoile  remembered,  and  so  did  doubtless  others, 
that  Feria  was  son  to  the  Duke  of  that  name  who  had 
commanded  the  Spanish  troops  at  the  time  of  the 
League,  and  had  been  expelled  by  Henri  from  the  city. 
Crowds,  nevertheless,  love  pageants,  and  the  envoy's 
entry  was  greeted  with  acclamation.  From  Concini's 
house  Marie  de  Medicis  watched  the  procession  in 
person,  herself  unseen,  the  favourite  being  deputed  to 
wait  upon  the  Duke  and  to  make  him  welcome 
upon  her  behalf. 

It  was  true  that,  to  the  uninitiated,  it  may  have 
seemed  singular  that  a  person  no  higher  in  rank  than 
the  "  Sieur  Concini "  had  been  chosen  to  represent 
Marie  de  Medicis  upon  so  important  an  occasion,  but 
an  inquiry  from  one  of  the  new-comers  elicited  from 
the  resident  Spanish  Ambassador  a  full  explanation  of 
the  situation.  Concini  was,  he  informed  his  country- 
man, the  Queen's  major-domo,  her  chief  courtier,  the 


The  Duke  de  Feria  243 

man  she  favoured  and  heaped  with  benefits.  "  In 
short,"  he  ended,  "  he  is  her  Duke  of  Lerma.  What 
can  I  say  more  ? "  proceeding  to  dwell  upon  the 
necessity  of  showing  every  courtesy  to  the  favourite. 

On  September  1 1  the  audience  of  the  Duke  took 
place.  On  the  preceding  day  a  Spaniard  belonging  to 
his  suite  had  paid  Louis  a  more  informal  visit ;  when 
the  boy,  not  without  a  suggestion  of  malice,  had  selected 
as  a  subject  of  conversation  the  recent  capture  of  Juliers 
by  the  allied  Powers,  displaying  to  his  guest  a  map  of 
the  town,  and  pointing  out  the  disposition  of  the  several 
forces.  Lestoile  was  no  doubt  repeating  the  current 
gossip  when,  comparing  the  King's  conduct  towards 
the  Spanish  and  English  envoys,  he  observed  that  he 
seemed  to  have  sucked  in  hatred  of  Spain  with  the 
milk  from  the  breast. 

In  the  speech  Louis  made  at  the  State  reception  of  the 
envoy  the  same  hint  of  an  undercurrent  of  unfriendli- 
ness might  be  detected.  Greeting  the  Duke  in  the 
presence  of  a  crowd  of  nobles  and  courtiers,  he  begged 
that  he  would  assure  his  master  that  he  would  entertain 
for  him  "the  same  affection  as  the  late  King  his  father." 
On  this  occasion,  as  on  others  of  the  like  kind,  the 
dignity  and  self-possession  of  the  child  of  eight  appears 
to  have  struck  the  foreigners,  no  less  than  his  own 
countrymen,  with  surprise,  and  if  Louis  and  all  present 
were  aware  that  Henri  had  ever  hated  Spain,  no 
exception  could  be  taken  to  the  ambiguous  terms  of 
his  speech. 

To  the  Parisians,  traditionally  hostile  to  Spain,  the 
supposed  animosity  of  their  boy-King  to  that  country 
was  dear,  and  the  evidences  of  it  were  eagerly  reported. 


244  The  Making  of  "a  King 

Amongst  the  stories  current  was  one  which  told  how, 
finding  Louis  pensive,  Pere  Cotton  had  asked  him  the 
reason. 

"I  shall  take  care  not  to* tell  it  to  you,"  the  child 
was  said  to  have  answered,  "  for  you  would  write  it 
to  Spain  at  once." 

The  reply  was  too  significant  to  be  overlooked  ;  and 
Cotton,  repeating  it  to  the  Queen,  complained  that  her 
son  was  being  prejudiced  by  those  about  him  against 
the  Society.  Rebuked  by  his  mother,  Louis  remained 
impenitent,  if  not  defiant,  observing  that  he  would 
not  always  be  little,  and  that  it  might  afterwards  be 
remembered  how  he  had  been  reprimanded.  It  is 
not  recorded  how  the  Queen  received  what  sounded 
like  a  menace.  She  may  afterwards  have  recalled  it. 

The  date  fixed  for  the  coronation  was  approaching. 
It  was  to  take  place  at  Rheims,  with  the  customary 
solemnities.  There  was  a  lull  in  the  struggle  between 
the  rival  claimants  for  place  and  power,  and  the 
function  was  to  be  graced  by  the  presence  of  all  the 
nobles  and  princes  of  importance  in  the  realm,  save 
those  whose  duties  detained  them  elsewhere. 

"  You  will  witness,"  Marie  boasted  to  the  Tuscan 
envoy,  "what  you  have  never  yet  seen,  and  what  I 
shall  never  care  to  see  again." 

Louis  was  impatient  for  the  ceremony  in  which  he 
was  to  play  the  leading  part.  Speaking  of  his  mother's 
Sacre,  he  complained  that  at  Saint-Denis  the  worst 
lodging  had  been  allotted  to  him,  that  his  apartment 
had  included  a  well  and  a  cellar,  and  that  a  stable 
and  a  duck-pond  had  been  below  it.  There  was  no 
danger  that  he  would  suffer  these  indignities  now. 


Louis's  Coronation  245 

Wherever  he  might  go,  he  was  a  personage  of 
importance,  and  was  treated  as  such.  He  will  have 
appreciated  the  change.  Yet  his  position  must  often 
have  entailed  weariness  and  fatigue.  The  long  journey 
towards  Rheims  had  been  begun  on  October  2  ;  and, 
as  the  Court  proceeded  on  its  way,  the  Queen  once 
asked  the  boy  whether  he  would  undertake  it  again 
for  a  second  coronation. 

"  Yes,  Madame,"  answered  Louis  readily  ;  "  for 
another  kingdom,  not  otherwise." 

During  the  days  passed  at  Rheims  and  in  the  intervals 
of  more  serious  avocations,  a  healthy  survival  of  child- 
hood— a  childhood  those  around  him  were  doing  their 
best  to  crush — is  at  times  apparent,  alternating  with 
attention  to  religious  rites  and  to  the  duties  belonging 
to  his  station.  He  listens  patiently  to  the  harangues 
greeting  his  arrival  in  the  Norman  city  ;  is  confirmed 
on  the  eve  of  his  coronation  by  the  Cardinal  de 
Joyeuse  ;  and  that  same  afternoon — "  enfant  en- 
fantissime  " — plays  at  horses  with  his  boy  companions, 
driving  them,  harnessed,  before  him. 

At  the  coronation  ceremony — lasting  two  hours  and 
a  quarter — he  conducted  himself,  on  the  whole,  "  fort 
vertueusement."  But  ebullitions  of  boyish  spirits 
nevertheless  broke  out.  The  anointing  over,  he 
was  undergoing  the  ordeal  of  being  kissed  by  each 
peer,  and,  discerning  a  familiar  face,  bestowed  a  gay 
little  box  on  the  ear  to  the  Due  d'Elbeuf ;  and  again 
varied  the  solemnity  of  the  scene  by  an  attempt  to  tread 
upon  the  train  of  the  Marechal  de  la  Chatre  as  he 
preceded  him  up  the  church.  When  Epernon,  on  the 
other  hand,  offered  him  the  prescribed  salute,  he  was 


246  The  Making  of  a  King 

observed — and  those  who  distrusted  the  Duke  took 
note  of  it — to  raise  both  hands  to  steady  the  crown 
upon  his  head. 

At  last  the  long  rite  was  over  and,  put  to  bed  that 
he  might  rest,  France's  anointed  sovereign  lay  contentedly 
playing  with  his  favourite  lead  soldiers  and  fashioning 
engines  out  of  cards. 

Other  functions  followed.  Made  a  Knight  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  he  admitted,  in  his  turn,  the  Prince  de 
Conde  into  the  Order.  On  October  19  the  journey 
homewards  was  begun,  and  two  days  later,  at  Saint- 
Marcoul,  he  performed  the  distasteful  duty  of  touching 
nine  hundred  sick  for  the  King's  Evil.  The  days  when 
he  had  refused  to  replace  his  father  in  washing  the  feet 
of  the  poor  were  gone  by.  He  accomplished  his 
present  task  steadily  and  dexterously,  turning  a  little 
pale  as  the  work  proceeded,  but  refusing  to  admit 
that  he  was  weary. 

At  nightfall  on  October  30  Paris  was  reached,  the 
King's  first  entry  into  his  capital  being  greeted  by  a 
hundred  salutes  from  a  hundred  cannon,  as,  a  gallant 
little  scarlet-clad  figure,  "  stately  and  bold,"  he  rode  on 
his  great  white  horse  through  the  torch-lit  streets. 

Amongst  the  great  officers  and  servants  of  the 
Crown  one  place  had  been  empty.  Sully  had  not 
assisted  at  the  coronation  of  his  master's  son.  Illness 
was  the  ostensible  cause  of  his  absence  ;  but,  though 
this  was  no  mere  pretext,  other  reasons  had  contributed 
to  make  him  crave  permission  of  the  Queen  to  visit 
his  own  estates  rather  than  accompany  the  Court  to 
Rheims.  He  was,  in  fact,  contemplating  retirement 
from  public  life,  so  long  as  the  present  condition  of 


The  King  and  Condi  247 

affairs  should  last — one  giving  him  no  hope  of  exer- 
cising a  beneficial  influence.  The  time,  however,  was 
not  yet  come  when  he  could  be  spared,  and  pressure 
was  successfully  brought  upon  him  by  the  Queen  to 
induce  him  to  resume  his  duties  at  Paris.  It  was  not 
until  the  following  January  that  he  finally  abandoned 
his  post. 

Meanwhile  the  autumn  was  occupied  by  incessant 
struggles  between  the  Princes  of  the  Blood,  at  variance 
with  each  other  as  well  as  with  the  great  house  of 
Lorraine,  each  claiming  the  pre-eminence — such  pre- 
eminence as  could  be  hoped  for,  Marie  being 
Regent  and  a  foreign  adventurer  directing  the  per- 
formance from  behind  the  scenes.  How  much  Louis 
understood  of  what  was  going  forward  is  uncertain. 
"The  King,"  observes  Heroard,  "listens  to  every- 
thing, remembers  everything,  knows  everything,  and 
gives  no  sign  of  it."  Perhaps  Heroard  was  right  ; 
Louis,  as  he  said  himself,  was  not  "  grand  parleur." 
A  scene  taking  place  in  January,  graphically  described 
by  the  physician,  may  indicate  that  he  was  on  the 
watch  for  an  absence  of  respect  on  the  part  of  Conde, 
one  of  the  chief  offenders  in  the  matters  in  dispute. 

A  meeting  was  being  held  in  the  Queen's  private 
cabinet,  with  a  view  of  adjusting  the  differences  be- 
tween the  Princes,  when  the  first  Prince  of  the  Blood 
entered  brusquely  and  with  no  sign  of  deference. 
Covering  himself  at  once,  with  no  special  salutation 
to  the  King,  he  took  a  seat,  and  addressed  M.  de 
Bouillon.  The  King  went  to  M.  de  Souvre,  and 
indignantly  complained. 

"  Mousseu   de  Souvre,"   he    said,  "  Look,  look    at 


248  The  Making  of  a  King 

Mousseu  le  Prince.  He  has  seated  himself  in  my 
presence  ;  he  is  insolent." 

"  Sire,"  replied  M.  de  Souvre  soothingly,  "  it  is  that 
he  is  speaking  to  M.  de  Bouillon,  and  does  not  see 
you." 

The  King  was  not  content  with  the  excuse. 

"  I  will  go  and  place  myself  near  him,"  he  said, 
<c  and  see  if  he  rises." 

The  test  was  applied.  Conde  retained  his  seat, 
disregarding  the  approach  of  the  sovereign.  Louis 
returned  to  the  gouverneur. 

"  You  saw  that  he  did  not  rise  ?  "  he  asked.  "  He 
is  very  insolent." 

Signs  were  not  wanting  that  the  boy  was  growing 
older.  His  life  was  one  to  foster  rapid  develop- 
ment. Already  the  thought  of  the  impression  he 
would  make  weighed  upon  him.  Retiring  to  his  private 
room  to  play  with  his  "  little  toy-men,"  he  would 
forbid  his  attendants  to  mention  his  occupation  ;  and, 
more  than  once,  when  he  considered  that  his  slumbers 
had  been  unduly  protracted,  he  would  complain,  almost 
with  tears,  of  having  been  allowed  to  sleep  so  long  ; 
it  would  be  said  that  he  was  lazy. 

More  significant  was  his  bearing  when  told  that 
Sully — it  will  be  remembered  he  had  never  shown  any 
liking  for  him — was  in  January  deprived  of  his  posts. 
Louis  was  manifestly  disturbed. 

"  They  have  taken  away  the  finances  from  M.  de 
Sully  ?  "  he  asked  his  gouverneur. 

"  Yes,  Sire,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Why  ?  "  he  inquired,  with  a  startled  air. 

"  I  am  ignorant  of  the  reasons,"  answered    Souvre 


Sally's  Dismissal  249 

discreetly.  "  But  the  Queen  has  not  done  it  without 
much  cause,  as  she  always  acts  after  great  considera- 
tion. Are  you  sorry  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Louis  laconically. 

He  may  have  remembered  that  the  minister  had 
been  his  father's  friend.  He  may,  with  a  child's 
instinct,  have  divined  that  he  was  more  true  and  loyal 
and  wise  than  the  courtiers  who  treated  him  with 
flattery  and  adulation.  The  expression  of  regret  is, 
in  any  case,  in  curious  contradiction  to  the  dislike  he 
had  displayed  towards  the  Duke  in  former  days. 

If  the  King  had  more  cause  than  he  knew  to  be 
"  marri,"  there  were  singularly  few  who  shared  his 
sentiments.  Sully  was  hated  on  all  hands.  The 
roughness  of  his  manners  and  bearing,  amounting  to 
positive  discourtesy,  the  duties  appertaining  to  his 
office,  his  State  economies,  the  necessity  of  constantly 
opposing  obstacles  to  rapacity  and  ambition,  combined 
with  the  favour  shown  him  by  the  late  King,  to  render 
him  odious  ;  the  fact  that,  in  serving  his  master,  he  had 
not  omitted  to  serve  himself,  and  had  amassed,  though 
with  the  King's  knowledge,  an  enormous  fortune, 
adding  an  edge,  comprehensible  if  not  justifiable,  to  the 
animosity  of  his  enemies. 

Into  the  causes  of  his  fall,  the  rivalries  and  intrigues 
at  work  to  ensure  it,  it  is  not  necessary  to  enter.  To 
have  remained  at  his  post  under  the  changed  circum- 
stances would  have  been,  sooner  or  later,  an  impossi- 
bility, unless  he  had  been  prepared  to  buy  office  by  an 
absolute  sacrifice  of  principle.  The  man  who  had  been 
Henri's  friend  and  confidant,  and  had  shared  his  views 
and  projects,  foreign  and  domestic,  could  not  act  as 


25°  The  Making  of  a"  King 

the  instrument  of  a  government  aiming  at  a  reversal, 
in  almost  every  respect,  of  the  policy  of  the  late  reign. 

Marie  told  Richelieu,  it  is  true,  and  Richelieu 
believed,  or  pretended  to  belieVe,  that  Henri,  wearying 
at  length  of  Sully's  ill-temper  and  perversity,  had 
contemplated  at  the  time  of  his  death  his  removal  from 
the  management  of  the  finances  ;  and  it  has  been  seen 
that  Malherbe  described  a  quarrel  which  had  for  a  brief 
moment  raised  the  hopes  of  the  minister's  foes.  But 
that  Henri  seriously  intended  his  dismissal  is  incon- 
ceivable. The  cloud,  whether  it  was  that  alluded  to 
by  the  poet  or  another,  would  have  been  dispersed ;  a 
storm,  as  often  before,  would  have  cleared  the  air,  and 
the  statesman  would  have  retained  both  his  post  and 
the  affection  of  the  King.  It  is  also  abundantly  clear 
that,  up  to  the  very  last,  the  two  were  on  confidential 
terms.  Marie's  interest  was,  however,  to  make  it 
appear  that  she  had  done  no  more  than  carry  out  her 
husband's  intention  in  dispensing  with  the  services  of 
the  man  he  trusted  most. 

The  parting  took  place  ostensibly  on  terms  of  amity. 
A  farewell  gift  of  300,000  crowns  was  presented  to 
the  Duke  ;  and,  though  deprived  of  the  charge  of  the 
finances  and  the  Bastille,  he  retained  the  governorship 
of  Poitou  and  other  subordinate  posts.  Nevertheless, 
to  a  man  of  his  powers,  and  accustomed  to  exercise 
them,  his  forced  withdrawal  from  public  life  could 
not  be  otherwise  than  bitter. 

"  I  know  of  no  one  capable  of  doing  what  I  have 
done,"  he  told  Elb&ne,  the  Queen's  maitre  d' hot  el. 
The  statement  could  not  have  been  controverted  ;  but 
of  his  services  Louis  was  to  be  deprived. 


War  Possible  251 

The  public,  looking  on,  drew  its  own  conclusions  as 
to  the  causes  dictating  the  minister's  dismissal.  Of 
those  conclusions  a  placard  affixed  to  the  Arsenal  is 
an  indication  :  "  A  house  to  be  let  for  the  Easter 
quarter  "  —thus  it  ran — "  apply  to  the  Marquis  d'Ancre, 
at  the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain." 

The  Queen  might  have  hesitated  to  deprive  herself 
of  the  services  of  so  practised  and  skilled  a  financier. 
Yet,  the  step  once  taken,  his  absence  must  have  been 
a    relief;    for    she    could    not    doubt    that    she  would 
find  him  irreconcilably  opposed  to  the  scheme  she  had 
most    at    heart — namely,    the    Spanish    marriages    and 
alliance.     Through  all  the  months  which   had  elapsed 
since  Henri's    death    negotiations,  proposals,  counter- 
proposals, had  gone  on,  Spain  now  hanging  back,  now 
showing    herself  fully    prepared    to    fall    in    with    the 
project.      The    chief  obstacle    in    the    way    had  been 
Savoy.     Promised  by  the  late   King    the  hand  of  his 
eldest  daughter   for  his   heir,   the  Duke   protested   in 
vain    against    the    breach    of    faith    in    contemplation. 
But,    though    indignant,    he    was    helpless.       At    one 
moment,  indeed,  war. had  appeared  possible.     Savoyard 
troops    had   menaced   Geneva,   whose  existence  as  an 
independent    republic    had    been     guaranteed    by    the 
treaties  of  Vervins  and  Lyons.     The  Queen  talked  of 
taking  her  son  to  the  latter  city,  where,  should  hostilities 
ensue,  his  presence  with  the  army  would  have  obviated 
the*  necessity  of  entrusting  its  command  to  Conde. 

By  one  person  at  least  the  prospect  thus  opened  out 
was  eagerly  welcomed.  Louis's  imagination  caught 
fire  at  the  chance  of  exchanging  his  favourite  lead 
soldiers  for  troops  of  flesh  and  blood,  and  he  declared 


252  The  Making  of  a'  King 

that  it  would  seem  a  thousand  years  to  him  till  he  was 
in  the  saddle.  Looking  at  his  reflection  in  a  mirror, 
he  asserted  that  he  had  doubled  in  size  since  the  war 
had  been  in  question. 

He  was  doomed  to  disappointment.  The  appeal  to 
arms  was  not  made,  and  a  hollow  pacification  was 
arranged  with  the  Duke  of  Savoy. 


CHAPTER   XX 
1611 

Parties  at  Court — The  Saumur  assembly — Louis's  tutors — Departure  of 
Alexandre  de  Venddme — Matrimonial  projects — Death  of  the  Due 
d'Orl6ans — His  burial — The  Spanish  marriages — Louis  and  Conde 
— Charles  d' Albert  de  Luynes. 

DURING  the  year  1 6 1 1  the  situation,  so  far  as  the 
rival  powers  in  the  State  were  concerned,  remained 
practically  unchanged.  The  same  conflict  of  opposed 
interests  prevailed  ;  the  same  principle — every  one  for 
himself— was  in  fashion.  The  most  important  develop- 
ment, amongst  the  parties  with  which  the  Queen  had  to 
reckon,  was  that  Conde  and  Soissons  had  arranged  a 
treaty  of  peace,  binding  themselves  to  make  common 
cause  in  case  of  the  disagreement  of  either  with  the 
Regent.  The  comparative  security  implied  by  the  fact 
that  the  Princes  of  the  Blood  were  in  opposition  to  one 
another  was  over  ;  and  they  were  united  in  hostility  to 
the  house  of  Lorraine,  on  the  whole  loyal  to  the 
Crown  and  the  Regent.  The  condition  of  the  Court, 
in  these  years,  resembles  nothing  so  much  as  a  kaleido- 
scope, presenting  continually  shifting  combinations,  as 
the  units  belonging  to  one  group  detach  themselves 
from  it  to  join  another,  to  which  they  are  attracted  by 
the  all-powerful  magnet  of  self-interest.  Truth,  loyalty, 

fidelity,  are  almost  non-existent.     The  aged  Mayenne 

253 


254  The  Making  of  a  King 

alone,  head  of  the  house  of  Guise,  once  Henri's  foe  and 
after  his  defeat  consistently  loyal,  maintained  a  different 
attitude,  telling  those  engaged  in  the  scramble  for  place, 
power,  or  money,  that  it  was  fil  done  to  put  the  King's 
minority  to  ransom  ;  they  should  consider  it  reward 
enough  to  have  done  their  duty  at  a  time  when  they 
could  not  be  compelled  to  perform  it. 

He  spoke  to  deaf  ears,  and  the  ignoble  struggle  went 
on.  The  Princes  of  the  Blood,  Conde,  Conti,  and 
Soissons  ;  the  ministerial  party,  Sillery  and  Villeroy  at 
their  head  ;  the  Concini  couple  and  their  dependents  ; 
Bouillon,  Epernon,  the  Due  de  Bellegarde,  and  the  whole 
house  of  Lorraine,  were  alike  engaged  in  the  contest,  at 
times  making  a  single-handed  attempt  to  compass  thei  r 
ends,  or  else  forming  alliances,  to  be  dissolved  as  soon 
as  more  advantageous  ones  offered. 

The  general  assembly  of  the  Protestants,  held  at 
Saumur,  supplied  an  additional  element  of  anxiety. 
Sully's  removal  and  the  rumours  of  the  projected 
arrangement  with  regard  to  Spain  had  given  rise 
to  serious  uneasiness  in  Huguenot  quarters,  and  fur- 
nished those  belonging  to  the  Religion  with  a  legitimate 
cause  for  apprehension  that  a  radical  change  in  the  late 
King's  policy  towards  them  was  in  contemplation.  But 
the  meeting  dispersed  without  having,  on  the  whole, 
justified  the  fears  entertained. 

The  question  of  the  Spanish  marriages  was  pre- 
dominant in  the  Queen's  mind  ;  and,  though  the 
negotiations  were  ostensibly  kept  private,  reports  of 
what  was  going  forward  could  not  fail  to  get  abroad, 
giving  rise  to  dismay  in  some  minds,  satisfaction 
in  others.  That  the  person  chiefly  concerned  was 


Louis's  Tutors  255 

becoming  reconciled  to  the  idea  is  indicated  by  his  reply 
when  Marie,  saying  lightly  that  she  wanted  to  get  him 
married,  inquired  of  Louis  which  of  the  two,  Spain  or 
England,  he  liked  best. 

The  boy  only  replied  to  his  mother  with  a  smile  ; 
but,  turning  to  a  bystander — 

"  Spain,"  he  said,  "  Spain." 

As  to  marriage,  or  any  other  question  of  importance, 
his  preferences  would  have  had  little  weight.  In  some 
respects  they  operated  in  the  opposite  direction  to  that 
he  would  have  desired.  Any  liking  he  displayed  for 
those  about  him  was  a  danger-signal,  since  the  formation 
of  a  strong  attachment  on  his  part  would  have  been  a 
menace  to  the  future  of  those  who  held  the  reins  of 
government  ;  and  the  fact  that  Louis  is  said  to  have 
felt  "  deplaisir  "  when  Des  Yveteaux  was  informed  that 
his  services  were  to  be  dispensed  with  may  have  been  at 
least  an  additional  reason  for  getting  rid  of  him. 

Divers  causes  were  assigned  for  the  tutor's  dismissal. 
His  religious  views  were  reported  to  be  unsound.  The 
Queen  had  from  the  first  been  opposed — not,  it 
appears,  without  reason — to  his  appointment.  He  had 
also  spoken  indiscreetly  of  Concini,  and  made  unwise 
allusion  to  the  King's  majority.  At  any  rate,  he  was  to 
go,  and  took  leave  of  his  pupil,  observing  with  bitter- 
ness that  he  had  had  the  trouble  and  others  would  have 
the  credit. 

M.  le  F&vre,  who  was  to  replace  Des  Yveteaux,  was 
a  earned  gentleman,  close  upon  seventy,  whose  in- 
fluence in  years  to  come  would  not  be  a  cause  of 
disquiet.  He  enjoyed  his  post  scarcely  more  than  a 
year,  dying  suddenly  in  November  1613.  When 


256  The  Making  of  a  King 

he  was  formally  presented  by  the  Queen  to  her  son, 
Louis's  behaviour  left  nothing  to  be  desired.  The 
ministers  of  State,  with  Souvre  and  Soissons,  were 
present  on  the  occasion,  and  *the  Queen  having  intro- 
duced the  tutor,  the  Chancellor  pronounced  his  eulogy, 
making  the  King  the  comprehensive  promise  that  he 
would  soon  render  him  learned  "sans  1'ennuyer."  The 
King,  for  his  part,  appears  to  have  conceived  a  kindly  - 
feeling  for  the  old  man  ;  and  when  it  was  proposed  to 
give  him  the  room  formerly  occupied  by  Des  Yveteaux, 
he  interposed,  saying  there  would  be  too  many  stairs, 
and  pointing  out  another  more  fitting. 

In  spite  of  natural  impulses  of  courtesy  or 
kindness,  Louis  was  not  a  scholar  inclined  to  smooth 
the  path  of  his  teachers  and  render  their  task  agreeable. 
The  instruction  they  bestowed  upon  him  was  tried  on 
its  own  merits  and  was  not  accepted  in  the  spirit  of  the 
model  pupil, 

"  Fleurence  will  tell  me  some  more  follies,"  he  said 
crossly,  of  an  ecclesiastic  who  filled  the  office  of  sous- 
precepteur.  The  remark  was  heard  by  the  tutor — as  it 
was  probably  meant  to  be — and  he  answered  with 
acrimony. 

"  I  would  rather,  Sire/'  he  said,  "  that  you  should 
hate  me  as  an  honest  man  than  love  me  as  a  bad  one. 
I  could  gain  my  livelihood  in  Turkey  as  well  as  with 
your  Majesty." 

The  assertion  was  a  strong  one,  especially  at  the 
date  when  it  was  made,  but  it  may  have  been  not  un- 
justified. The  preceptor  was  clearly  at  the  end  of  his 
patience. 

Louis  had  a  special  distaste  for  the  lengthy  sermons 


Prolonged  Devotions  257 

inflicted  upon  him.  Sometimes,  it  was  true,  he  could 
strike  a  bargain  with  the  preacher  and  induce  him  to 
place  a  limit  to  his  eloquence.  But  this  was  not  always 
in  his  power  ;  and  the  Feast  of  the  Assumption,  161 1,  is 
an  example  of  the  religious  observances  imposed  upon  a 
child  of  nine.  Taken  to  confession  to  Pere  Cotton,  he 
was  kept  an  hour  by  the  priest  in  the  confessional  ; 
after  which  he  drove  to  the  Augustines,  received  Holy 
Communion,  and  heard  Mass,  before  touching  four 
hundred  and  fifty  sick  for  the  King's  Evil.  The 
heat  was  intense  ;  and,  almost  fainting,  so  that  his  hands 
had  to  be  bathed  with  wine,  the  boy  was  brought  home 
and  allowed  a  short  respite  in  bed.  In  the  afternoon 
he  was  again  taken  to  church — this  time  to  Saint-Andre- 
des-Arcs — to  hear  a  sermon  from  the  Abbe  de  Bour- 
geuil  ;  when,  overcome  by  fatigue,  he  slept  throughout 
the  discourse,  in  spite  of  attempts  to  rouse  him,  asking 
plaintively  whether  there  were  no  means  of  bringing 
his  bed  to  the  sermon.  Nor  were  the  day's  devotions 
over  till  he  had  heard  Vespers  at  the  Cordeliers. 

Shortly  after  Des  Yveteaux's  dismissal,  another 
more  grievous  parting  was  to  be  inflicted  on  the  boy. 
He  had  always  loved  Alexandre  de  Vendome ;  and 
his  grief  at  the  prospect  of  a  separation  had  been 
allowed  to  prevail  during  the  previous  year,  the 
Chevalier  remaining  at  Paris.  Now,  however,  it 
had  been  decided  that  he  was  to  be  removed,  the 
Queen  making  a  pretext  of  sending  him  to  the  head- 
quarters of  his  Order  at  Malta.  Her  reasons  were 
well  understood,  and  when  Conde,  in  conflict  with 
her  later,  demanded  that  the  Chevalier  should  be 
recalled,  it  was  believed  that  his  motive  was  not  so 

17 


258  The  Making  of  a  King 

much  affection  for  the  lad  or  the  desire  alleged  to  give 
pleasure  to  the  King,  as  the  injury  to  be  thereby 
inflicted  on  the  Queen,  who  had  removed  him  from 
Court  because  his  brother  loved  him. 

Louis  was  at  Saint-Germain  when  the  blow  fell. 
Since  his  transference  to  the  Louvre  his  visits  there 
had  been  few  and  short  ;  but  he  was  fond  of  his  little 
brothers  and  sisters — "  mes  enfants,"  as  he  would  call 
them — and  the  comparative  freedom  of  life  at  the 
chateau  may  have  allured  him.  In  July  he  had  en- 
treated his  mother  to  allow  him  to  spend  a  day  there  ; 
and  Marie  consented,  though  a  deputation  from  the 
Protestant  assembly  demanded  his  presence  in  Paris, 
and  he  had,  moreover,  been  guilty  of  a  blunder  in 
begging  the  Duchesse  de  Guise  to  add  her  supplications 
to  his  own.  The  Queen,  as  she  told  him  reproachfully, 
would  do  it  for  love  of  him  ;  and  what  she  would  do 
for  him  she  would  do  for  no  other  person. 

He  gained  his  point  ;  the  prisoner  of  State  had  a 
day's  leave  of  absence,  and  the  next  morning  he 
was  early  on  the  road.  In  August  a  longer  visit  was 
paid,  and  it  was  at  Saint-Germain  that  he  learnt  that 
he  was  to  be  deprived  of  his  favourite  companion. 

The  day  had  begun  ill.  Having  arranged  a  set  of 
silver  figurines  as  a  miniature  fair  of  Saint-Germain, 
he  had  been  forced,  in  high  dudgeon,  to  quit  the 
game  and  go  to  his  studies ;  when  presently  the 
Chevalier  arrived  at  the  chateau  in  tears,  to  fling 
himself  on  his  knees  before  the  King,  begging  that  the 
Queen's  orders  that  he  should  start  for  Malta  might  be 
rescinded. 

"  Have  pity  on  me,  Sire,"  he  cried  lamentably,  "  the 


Departure  of  the  Chevalier  259 

Queen  wishes  to  remove  me  from  your  Majesty,  and 
to  send  me  to  Malta." 

"  Ht  \  "  said  Louis,  manifestly  startled.  "  What 
have  you  done  to  the  Queen,  my  mother  ? " 

"  Nothing,  Sire,"  was  the  reply. 

"  What !  You  will  go  upon  the  sea  ? "  asked 
Louis. 

"  Yes,  Sire." 

"  Take  good  care  of  yourself,"  ordered  the  King. 
"  Be  the  strongest  when  you  go  to  war,  and  write  to 
me  often/' 

It  is  easy  to  see  that  the  boy  recognised  the  futility 
of  protest  ;  it  had  been  his  rule,  from  nursery  days, 
to  make  no  request  that  would  meet  with  a  refusal,  and 
he  was  too  proud  to  offer  a  useless  resistance.  But  he 
wept  bitterly.  "  It  was  great  pity,"  says  Heroard,  "  to 
hear  his  lamentations  and  tears,  out  of  the  affection 
he  bore  him."  Calling  him  Zagaye — some  childish 
nickname — he  showed  that,  young  as  he  was,  he  had 
divined  the  real  motive  at  work. 

"They  want  to  take  him  away,"  he  said,  "  because 
I  love  him." 

There  was  no  help  for  it.  An  hour  later  the 
Chevalier  was  gone ;  nor  did  the  brothers  meet  again 
till  four  years  had  passed  by. 

The  Queen  was  busy  that  summer.  She  was  an 
inveterate  match-maker ;  and,  not  content  with  disposing 
of  her  own  children,  she  was  bent  upon  arranging 
marriages  for  her  Italian  cousins.  The  Grand-duke 
of  Tuscany  had  four  daughters,  and  on  their  behalf, 
as  well  as  on  that  of  a  daughter  of  her  sister,  the 
Duchess  of  Mantua,  her  efforts  were  indefatigable. 


260  The  Making  of  a  King 

Young  Montmorency,  son  to  the  Constable,  was 
specially  eligible.  Henri  had  wished  in  vain  to  secure 
him  for  Gabrielle's  daughter;  he  had  gone  through  a 
form  of  marriage,  afterwards  annulled,  with  another 
bride  ;  and,  being  sixteen  and  a  handsome  lad,  it  was 
the  Regent's  desire  to  wed  him  to  one  of  the  Medicis 
sisters  ;  doing  her  best,  when  this  scheme  was  aban- 
doned, to  present  him  with  her  Mantuan  niece.  Her 
brain  was  teeming  with  matrimonial  projects.  Her 
second  daughter,  Christine,  might  become  Princess 
of  Wales.  Another  Medicis  could  be  wedded  to  the 
Duke  of  Savoy's  heir,  cheated  by  the  Spanish  scheme 
of  his  French  bride. 

In  October  an  important  addition  was  made  to  the 
crowned  or  royal  personages  crowding  the  marriage 
market.  Margaret  of  Austria,  Queen  of  Spain,  died 
in  childbirth,  and  Philip  was  a  widower.  His  Am- 
bassador at  Paris  received  from  him  a  letter  "  which 
would  make  stones  weep,"  and  the  choice  of  another 
wife  was  at  once  discussed.  Why,  asked  Campiglia, 
the  Florentine  envoy,  should  not  Marie  fill  the  dead 
Queen's  place  ?  The  question  was  put  to  her  by  the 
Tuscan  less  than  a  month  after  Margaret's  death. 

It  was  not  the  first  time  that  the  idea  of  remarriage 
had  been  broached  to  the  Queen.  An  astrologer  who 
was  said  to  have  predicted  Henri's  death  to  his  master, 
the  Duke  of  Savoy,  had  added  that  his  highness 
would  marry  the  King's  widow  and  administer  the 
government  of  France.  Informed  of  the  prediction 
shortly  after  the  murder,  Marie  had  dismissed  the  idea 
of  any  second  marriage — even,  as  she  added,  should 
the  King  of  Spain  become  a  widower.  Now  that  the 


Death  of  the  Due  d'Orleans  261 

contemplated  contingency  had  occurred,  she  treated  the 
question  lightly.  She  was,  she  told  Campiglia,  too 
well  pleased  with  her  present  position  to  have  any  wish 
to  change  it.  Even  when  the  minority  should  be 
nominally  over,  she  would  remain  for  years  mistress  in 
France  ;  and  would  afterwards  have  become  too  old. 

Meantime,  death  was  busy  amongst  those  connected 
with  her.  In  September  her  sister  died.  Always 
attached  to  her  family,  it  was  a  heavy  blow  ;  and  was 
followed  by  a  heavier.  Towards  the  close  of  the 
year  the  first  gap  was  made  in  the  group  of  children 
brought  up  together  at  Saint-Germain  by  the  death  of 
the  little  Due  d'Orleans,  whose  health  had  been  so 
constant  a  source  of  anxiety  to  his  father. 

The  end  can  have  taken  few  by  surprise.  Visiting 
the  Louvre  after  Louis's  coronation,  Sully  had  found 
all  the  royal  children  at  the  palace,  a  each,  according  to 
their  age,  receiving  him  very  well  and  with  great 
caresses."  On  his  return  to  the  Arsenal,  he  had  pre- 
dicted, tears  in  his  eyes,  that  his  master's  second  son 
would  not  live  long. 

None  of  the  children  had  lately  been  well  ;  and 
Marie  had  conceived  the  idea  of  bringing  the  younger 
ones  to  the  Luxembourg,  where  they  would  be  to  a 
greater  extent  under  her  own  eye,  and  in  the  hope  that 
change  of  air  would  prove  beneficial.  She  was  herself, 
with  Louis,  at  Saint-Germain  when  little  Orleans's  short 
life  came  to  an  end. 

Louis  had  started  from  Paris,  on  November  14,  in 
high  spirits,  prepared  to  display  his  new  accomplish- 
ments to  an  admiring  feminine  circle. 

«  My  sisters,"  he  told  Heroard,  "  will  be  very  glad 


262  The  Making  of  3  King 

to  see  me  shoot  with  the  arquebus.  .  .  .  Mamanga  will 
ask  M.  de  Souvre  how  he  can  allow  me  to  shoot,  and 
will  go  and  say  so  to  the  Queen,  my  mother." 

By  the  time  he  reached  fhe  chateau  his  brother's 
condition  was  already  causing  anxiety.  The  Duke  had 
been  suffering  from  slight  convulsions,  accompanied  by 
a  species  of  lethargy.  Waking,  however,  he  responded 
to  Louis's  greeting  with  ready  courtesy  and  the  respect 
ever  shown  to  the  elder  brother. 

"  Good-night,  mon  petit  papa"  he  said,  "  you  do  me 
too  much  honour  in  taking  the  trouble  to  come  and 


see  me." 


Bursting  into  tears,  Louis  left  the  room.  It  was  the 
brothers'  last  meeting. 

"  Is  there  no  means  of  saving  him  ? "  the  King 
asked  M.  de  Souvre  the  following  day. 

The  gouverneurs  answer  was  not  reassuring.  The 
doctors  were  doing  all  they  could.  The  King  must 
pray. 

Louis  was  ready  and  willing.  But  was  there  nothing 
else  to  be  done  ?  he  persisted  anxiously. 

A  votive  offering  to  our  Lady  of  Loretto,  taking 
the  form  of  a  silver  image  of  the  height  of  the  sick 
child,  was  suggested.  Louis  caught  at  the  idea. 

"Send  to  Paris  at  once,"  he  ordered;  "let  them 
make  haste"  ;  then  fell,  with  tears,  to  saying  his 
prayers. 

On  the  night  of  November  16,  the  King,  waking  at 
one  o'clock,  asked  for  news  of  his  brother  ;  then — not 
being  informed  that  all  was  over — slept  again.  Almost 
at  that  very  hour  the  child  had  passed  away.  "  A 
short  time  before,"  records  Heroard,  "  he  said  that  he 


Death  of  the  Due  d'Orleans  263 

had  seen  in  a  dream  an  angel,  who  told  him  that 
his  good  papa  wished  to  see  him,  and  that  he  would 
see  him  soon.  { Je  1'embrasserai  si  fort,'  he  said 
gaily." 

Henri-Quatre  was  not  forgotten  by  his  children. 

When  the  news  was  broken  by  Concini  to  Louis 
on  the  following  morning  he  received  it  with  manifest 
distress  and  loss  of  colour.  Then,  with  a  child's  im- 
patience of  grief,  he  tried  his  best  to  amuse  himself, 
begging  M.  de  Souvre  to  ask  the  Queen  not  to  insist 
upon  his  sprinkling  the  body  with  holy-water.  The 
ceremonies  and  the  horror  attending  his  father's  death 
were  not  obliterated  from  his  memory,  nor  was  it 
without  reluctance  that  he  was  induced  to  occupy  the 
great  chamber  at  the  Louvre  where  he  had  seen 
Henri  lying  dead. 

To  what  degree  the  Queen  would  be  inconsolable 
for  the  loss  of  her  son  God  alone  knew,  wrote  the 
Tuscan  Secretary,  Ammirato,  whether  using  the  words 
equivocally  or  not.  Richelieu,  writing  of  the  event 
at  a  later  date,  mentions  that  he  had  been  told  that, 
on  a  former  occasion,  Marie  had  been  so  little  moved 
by  a  serious  illness  of  the  Duke's  that  Henri — always 
an  anxious  father — had  considered  it  strange,  and  had 
taxed  her  with  lack  of  affection  for  her  children.  The 
difference  now,  observed  the  Cardinal  easily,  was  that 
the  child's  life  was  more  essential  to  her  interests, 
since  by  her  husband's  death  she  was  debarred  from 
having  other  sons.  Richelieu  was  perhaps  right,  and 
political  exigencies  may  have  increased  the  Queen's 
sorrow.  But  it  is  more  charitable  to  believe  that 
Marie  was  not  by  temperament  an  anxious  woman, 


264  The  Making  of  a  King 

and    that    notwithstanding    the    Duke's    delicacy,    she 
had  never  contemplated  the  contingency  of  his  death. 

Yet  it  is  singular  to  note  the  absence  of  pomp  and 
ceremony  with  which  the  nameless  child — he  had  not 
yet  received   public   baptism — who  was  yet  next  heir 
to    the   throne,  was    laid    to    rest    in   Saint-Denis,   his 
"  petit    papa "    being    apparently    not    present    at    the 
funeral.     The  fact  that  it  was  taking  place   may  have 
been  withheld  from  the  boy,  with  a  view  of  sparing 
him    emotion  ;    for    in    the    record    of    the    day     no 
trace  is  to  be  discerned   of  any  consciousness  on  his 
part  of  what  was  going  forward  ;    and    the    contrast 
is  a  singular  one    between    the   one    brother,    carried 
to  his  grave  with  bare  decorum,  and  the  other  lying 
contentedly    in  bed  playing    with   his    favourite   toys, 
whilst  music  was  performed  in    his    chamber.       It    is 
true    that    his   pleasure  was    alloyed    by  the  entrance 
of  the  Cardinal  de  Gonzaga,    come    to    listen   to  the 
songs.     Regard  for  his    dignity    constrained  the  King 
to    relinquish   his  playthings  so  long  as   the  Cardinal 
was    present,    returning    with    open    delight     to     his 
miniature    cannon    when    the    visitor    had  withdrawn. 
So  ended  the  burial  day.     On  the  next,  Louis  "  gave 
audience  to  five  ambassadors  on  his  brother's  decease." 
Another  scene,  also  connected  with  the  dead  child, 
is  half-piteous,  half-comic  ;    when   his  baby  affianced- 
bride,  Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier,  for  whose  hand 
suitors    were    contending,    was    brought    to    visit    the 
Queen,  clad  in  a  widow's  deep   mourning.     Touched 
and    compassionate,    Marie    dispensed    her    from    the 
necessity  of  wearing    her  weeds  ;    promising,  besides, 
that    Anjou   should    take   his   brother's   place,   though 


Ge  front,  ces  jeux  sereins,  a  e  maiejle  rempli.s,  , 

Gmpo^edenT  le  coewrlu  Mmartpede-pmce. 

^s  prwuttint  mm  jour,  no:  s^vceux  aaorrwlis, 

<T\        J  11  1  .A         ^        •  .o  V_J     '° 

JjeceMarj  ef  demons',  naisfniJw.stre  esperancL, 

"  *~  *~  •'     •  ~~  -* 


—   r  .  *i^r  ^ 

From  an  engraving  by  N.  de  Mathonier. 


p.  264] 


ANNE    OF    AUSTRIA. 


The  Spanish  Marriages  arranged       265 

confessing  that  she  was  unable  to  guarantee  that  he 
would  treat  her  with  as  much  respect.  Orleans  had 
never  presumed  to  kiss  her  without  first  asking  per- 
mission. Anjou,  his  mother  feared,  would  not — at 
three  years  old— be  equally  discreet. 

By  the  middle  of  December  the  great  wish  of 
Marie's  heart  was  granted,  and  the  double  Spanish 
marriages  were  definitely  arranged.  Some  discussion 
took  place  as  to  the  date  at  which  the  Infanta  and 
Madame  were  to  be  exchanged,  the  Queen  pleading 
that  the  fact  that  Anne  was  motherless  was  a 
reason  for  hastening,  rather  than  retarding,  her  trans- 
ference to  France,  where  she  herself  would  act  the 
part  of  a  mother.  But  Philip  declined  to  part  with 
his  daughter  till,  in  two  years'  time,  she  should  have 
completed  at  least  her  twelfth  year,  and  Marie  was 
fain  to  be  content. 

The  Princes  of  the  Blood  on  their  return  to  Paris, 
from  which  they  had  absented  themselves,  were  less 
so.  The  affair  had  been  settled  without  their  advice 
or  concurrence  ;  and,  though  they  were  not  in  a 
position  to  oppose  the  arrangement  openly,  it  was 
another  item  added  to  their  reckoning  against  the 
Regent.  More  and  more  they  stood  over  against 
her,  a  hostile  and  menacing  force. 

"  M.  le  Chancelier,"  said  Louis  one  day,  as,  alert 
and  suspicious,  he  watched  his  mother  and  Conde  in 
conversation,  and  drew  his  conclusions  from  her 
changing  colour  and  the  Prince's  gestures,  "  M.  le 
Prince  is  chiding  the  Queen,  my  mother.  It  should 
not  be  endured.  I  will  not  have  it." 

Neither  did    he  respond   with   cordiality  when    his 


266  The  Making  of  a  King 

cousins  showed  a  desire  to  deal  with  him  directly, 
and  not  through  untrustworthy  channels.  Taking 
him  apart  one  day,  Conde  bade  him  not  to  believe 
that  the  Princes  of  his  own  blood  had  any  thought 
of  carrying  him  off — a  report  of  the  kind  appearing 
to  have  been  in  circulation.  To  risk  their  lives  for 
him  was  their  sole  desire. 

Louis  received  the  protestation  coldly. 

c<  Je  ne  m'en  soucie  pas,"  he  said  ungraciously. 

If  there  was  little  chance  that  he  would  be  disposed 
to  attach  himself  to  the  party  led  by  the  Princes, 
another  danger,  as  yet  unsuspected,  was  preparing. 
About  this  time  a  scene  is  recorded,  trifling  in 
itself,  yet  not  unimportant  when  interpreted  by  the 
light  of  future  events. 

Louis  lay  half-asleep  and  dreaming. 

"  Ho,  how  beautiful  .  .  .  how  beautiful,  is  the 
lure  !  .  .  .  the  lure !  .  .  .  Luynes  .  .  .  Luynes,"  he 
murmured  between  sleeping  and  waking. 

Charles  d' Albert,  Seigneur  de  Luynes,  was  the 
King's  falconer.  He  was  to  become,  as  many  would 
know  to  their  cost,  his  favourite.  The  manner  of 
his  obtaining  the  post  which  was  the  first  rung  of 
the  ladder  is  curious  ;  the  very  means  taken  to  obviate 
the  danger  of  the  King's  contracting  an  inconvenient 
affection  having  led  to  the  connection  that  proved  in 
the  end  fatal  to  his  mother's  sway. 

Knowing  Louis's  passion  for  falconry,  it  had  occurred 
to  the  younger  Vitry,  now  captain  of  the  guard  in 
his  father's  place,  and  to  a  comrade  of  his,  de  la 
Curee,  that  could  a  dependent  of  their  own  be  ap- 
pointed to  take  charge  of  the  King's  birds,  hitherto 


The  Promotion  of  Luyncs  267 

under  the  care  of  a  mere  servant,  it  would  prove  to 
their  interest.  Having  selected  a  guardsman  skilled 
in  the  art  as  their  candidate,  they  took  the  oppor- 
tunity when,  dinner  ended,  Louis  was  almost  alone, 
to  suggest  to  him,  in  a  low  voice,  that  it  was  not 
fitting  that  his  hawks  should  remain  in  the  hands  of 
a  peasant,  and,  reminding  him  of  instances  of  their 
protege's  skill,  recommended  him  for  the  post.  The 
King  listened  favourably,  though,  according  to  his 
wont,  committing  himself  to  no  decided  opinion.  All 
might  have  gone  according  to  their  wishes  had  not  a 
young  attendant  of  Louis's,  Fontenay  by  name,  over- 
heard the  conversation,  and,  having  taken  counsel  with 
the  son  and  nephew  of  Souvre — just  then  ill  and  con- 
fined to  his  bed — hurried  to  thegouverneur,  and  disclosed 
to  him  what  was  going  forward.  Fontenay  suggested 
further  that,  instead  of  the  proposed  soldier,  who  was 
believed  to  be  in  the  interest  of  the  Concini  party, 
Luynes  would  be  a  fit  person  to  minister  to  the 
King's  pleasure,  and,  owing  his  appointment  to  Souvre, 
would  be  likely  to  show  himself  grateful.  Souvre 
fully  concurred  ;  Luynes  was  put  forward,  and, 
Louis  having  a  liking  for  him,  placed  him  at  once 
in  his  new  post.  Into  no  one's  imagination  had  it 
entered  as  a  possibility  that  Luynes,  thirty-five  years  of 
age  and  possessed  of  no  remarkable  intelligence,  would 
become  a  favourite,  and  all  was  considered  to  have 
been  put  on  a  safe  and  satisfactory  footing,  the  King's 
"  oiseaux  de  cabinet " — so  called  because  he  always 
kept  some  of  them  in  his  apartments  and  to  distinguish 
them  from  those  belonging  to  the  Grand  Falconer's 
charge — remaining  under  the  care  of  his  new  attendant, 


CHAPTER  XXI 
1612 

The  year  1612 — The  Spanish  marriages  finally  arranged — Truce  with 
the  Princes — Signature  of  the  marriage  contracts — The  Due  de 
Bellegarde  and  the  magic  mirror — Death  of  the  Comte  de  Soissons 
— Louis  in  disgrace. 

THERE  is  little  to  distinguish  the  year  1612,  in  its 
main  features,  from  what  had  preceded  it.  The 
same  passions  were  at  work,  the  same  motives  con- 
tinued to  direct  conduct.  Fresh  cabals  were  formed, 
one  combination  replaced  another  :  that  was  all.  If 
a  difference  is  discernible  it  is  chiefly  that  the  ascendancy 
of  the  Marquis  d'Ancre  and  his  wife  was  not  so 
complete  and  uninterrupted  as  before,  and  that  upon 
occasion  the  Queen  vindicated  her  independence  by 
a  refusal  to  act  upon  Concini's  advice.  Upon  the 
whole,  however,  he  and  his  wife  continued  to  be 
the  most  powerful  factors  at  Court.  When  the  Marquis 
seemed  to  have  fallen  into  temporary  disgrace,  sceptical 
observers  questioned  whether  the  reality  corresponded 
to  the  outward  appearance. 

The  Comte  de  Soissons,  until  his  death  towards  the 
end  of  the  year,  supplied  a  constant  cause  of  disquiet 
to  the  Government.  His  restless  ambition  forbade 
him  to  remain  content  with  the  concessions  he  obtained ; 

268 


The  Spanish  Marriages  269 

his  position  being  further  strengthened  by  the  league 
uniting  him  and  Conde,  and  by  intrigues  he  carried  on 
with  d'Ancre.  Any  sympathy  that  might  have  been 
felt  for  the  great  French  nobles  in  their  resistance  of 
foreign  influence  is  destroyed  by  the  readiness  they 
testified  to  make  terms  with  the  enemy  when  it  was 
their  personal  interest  to  do  so. 

During  the  spring  the  Regent's  supreme  desire  was 
accomplished,  and  the  Spanish  marriages  were  finally 
settled.  On  January  26,  in  a  speech  from  the  Chancellor, 
the  announcement  was  made  to  the  assembled  Council, 
consisting  of  the  Princes  of  the  Blood  and  the  officers 
of  the  Crown.  Save  by  Conde  and  Soissons,  no  dis- 
sentient voice  was  raised,  but  the  attitude  of  the  two 
was  at  once  made  clear. 

"  Mon  frere,"  said  Soissons,  turning  to  his  cousin, 
u  what  do  you  think  of  this  kind  of  Council  ?  See 
what  account  is  made  of  us,  and  how  we  are 
treated  !  " 

The  Queen,  overhearing,  as  she  was  meant  to  over- 
hear, the  words,  was  observed  to  flush,  and  would 
have  replied.  The  Chancellor,  however,  interposed 
to  prevent  it,  and  nothing  further  passed  on  the  sub- 
ject. Whether  the  Princes  approved  or  not,  it  was 
clear  that  the  Regent  did  not  intend  to  be  turned  from 
her  purpose  ;  and  two  months  later,  on  March  25,  in 
the  absence  of  both  Conde  and  Soissons,  the  necessary 
preliminaries  were  gone  through  and  Don  Innigo  de 
Cardenas,  Spanish  Ambassador,  formally  recognised 
Madame  as  Princess  of  Spain. 

Everything  had  been  done  to  lend  importance  to 
the  occasion.  The  Court  was  present,  with  the  officers 

• 


270  The  Making  of 'a  King 

of  the  Crown,  the  Marshals  of  France,  and  many  pre- 
lates. Madame,  dressed  in  the  Spanish  fashion,  wore 
a  gown  of  cloth  of  silver,  embroidered  in  gold  ;  the 
King  was  also  dressed  in  gold  and  silver.  Kneeling 
before  little  Elizabeth,  Cardenas  rendered  her  the 
homage  due  to  the  bride  of  his  Prince.  In  the  sight 
of  the  entire  Court  the  conclusion  of  the  affair  was 
declared. 

The  announcement  was  made  in  another  fashion  to 
the  general  public.  Carousels,  entertainments,  festi- 
vities of  all  kinds,  illuminations  and  fireworks,  celebrated 
the  betrothal  of  the  King  ;  and  Louis,  wherever  he 
appeared,  was  greeted  with  enthusiastic  acclamation. 
The  man  in  the  street  might  not,  on  reflection,  approve 
of  the  implied  reversal  of  the  late  King's  foreign  policy, 
but  he  loved  amusement,  and  nothing  so  magnificent 
had  ever  been  witnessed  in  Paris.  "  Night  was  turned 
into  day,  darkness  into  light,  and  the  streets  into 
amphitheatres." 

The  Princes  of  the  Blood  did  not  share  in  the 
festivities.  If  not  categorically  refusing  their  consent 
to  the  marriages,  they  had  betaken  themselves,  sulking, 
to  the  provinces.  Conde  had  refused  to  return  ; 
Soissons,  saying  that  he  intended  to  spend  Easter  at 
his  own  castle  at  Dreux,  promised  vaguely  to  render 
obedience  later  on  to  the  King's  summons.  The  fact 
that  the  two  were  together  was  not  reassuring  to  the 
Government  ;  and,  though  resolute  in  her  determina- 
tion to  hold  her  own  and  to  withstand  the  extravagant 
demands  which  the  Comte  de  Soissons,  in  particular, 
was  always  making,  the  Queen  thought  it  well  to 
attempt  a  policy  of  conciliation.  The  Marquis 


Rival  Forces  271 

d'Ancre  was  therefore  sent  to  visit  the  Count  on  her 
behalf;  the  ministerial  party,  opposed  to  the  favourite 
and  distrustful  of  his  methods,  deputing  Villeroy  to 
share  his  mission  and  to  keep  watch  over  his  pro- 
ceedings. 

At  the  time  when  Villeroy  was  to  start  it  appears 
that  the  Regent  was,  for  some  reason,  ill  content  with 
the  Parlement ;  since  to  his  inquiry  as  to  when  he  was 
to  leave  Paris  she  replied  sharply  that  it  would  be  so 
soon  as  that  body  had  executed  her  commands. 

"  Madame,"  said  the  King,  overhearing  what  was 
said,  and  confident  of  his  own  powers  of  persuasion, 
"  Madame,  tell  them  to  assemble,  and  send  me  to 
them.  They  will  not  refuse  me." 

The  Queen  may  have  acted  on  the  suggestion.  At 
all  events,  Villeroy  started  on  his  mission  with  d'Ancre  ; 
and  the  two  were  so  far  successful  that  a  species  of 
treaty  was  concluded  with  the  Princes.  The  Regent 
engaged  to  abstain  from  taking  action  for  the  future 
without  their  consent  and  promised  to  each  the  posses- 
sion of  a  stronghold  in  their  governments  ;  they  con- 
sented to  return  to  the  capital  and  to  renew  amicable 
relations  with  the  Queen.  By  a  private  arrangement 
between  d'Ancre  and  Soissons  both  were  further 
pledged  to  do  what  lay  in  their  power  to  abase  the 
ministerial  party,  and  though  all  must  have  known 
that  the  reconciliation  of  the  Regent  and  the  Princes 
was  a  hollow  one,  the  alliance  was  likely  to  continue 
so  long  as  the  favourite  could  hope  by  its  means  to 
compass  the  ruin  of  his  enemies. 

Meanwhile  peace  was  ostensibly  restored.  On  Ascen- 
sion Day  Conde  and  Soissons  rode  into  Paris,  escorted 


272  The  Making  of  a  King 

by  some  seven  or  eight  thousand  horsemen,  and,  in  the 
absence  of  the  King  and  Queen,  paid  their  respects  to 
the  two  youngest  representatives  of  the  royal  family, 
Gaston  and  Henriette,  at  the  Louvre.  Soon  after- 
wards they  repaired  to  Fontainebleau,  where  the  Court 
was  residing,  and  gave  formal  consent  to  the  Spanish 
marriages.  The  last  obstacle  in  the  way  of  the  Queen's 
cherished  project  was  removed.  Young  Mayenne — 
the  loyal  old  Duke  was  dead — was  dispatched,  with  a 
brilliant  retinue,  to  conclude  the  betrothal  at  Madrid, 
and  the  Duke  of  Pastrana  was  expected  to  arrive, 
with  a  similar  object,  in  Paris.  By  August  all 
measures  had  been  taken  to  seal,  so  far  as  marriage 
was  concerned,  Louis's  fate. 

The  boy  himself  had  little  voice  in  the  matter. 

"  My  son,  I  want  to  marry  you,"  the  Queen  said  to 
him  lightly.  "  Do  you  wish  it  ? " 

uje  le  veux  bien,  Madame,"  was  the  reply.  Yet 
signs  were  not  wanting  which  indicated,  to  observant 
eyes,  that  his  old  prejudice  with  regard  to  his 
father's  former  opponent  was  not  wholly  extinct.  It 
was  true  that  the  Tuscan  envoy,  who  plumed  himself 
upon  having  been  instrumental  in  bringing  the  match 
about,  reported  that  the  boy  was  accustomed  to  gaze, 
<c  as  if  in  love,"  at  the  portraits  of  the  Prince  of  Spain 
and  the  Infanta  which  had  been  hung  facing  his 
mother's  bed  ;  but  the  evidence  is  not  conclusive. 

"  Let  us  not  speak  of  that,"  Louis  answered  shortly, 
when,  on  the  eve  of  the  day  fixed  for  the  signing  of 
the  contracts,  Souvre  told  him  that  he  was  to  be  married 
on  the  morrow  ;  and  it  was  noticed  that,  in  replying 
in  the  prescribed  terms  to  the  Ambassador's  address, 


Signature  of  the  Marriage  Contracts       273 

rendering  thanks  to  Philip  for  his  good-will,  and  giving 
the  assurance  that  he  would  honour  him  as  a  father 
and  love  him  as  a  brother,  he  omitted,  whether  by 
accident  or  design,  the  further  dictated  promise  that 
he  would  make  use  of  his  good  counsels. 

It  had  been  on  August  13  that  the  envoy  from 
Spain  had  entered  Paris — an  earnest  of  the  drawbacks 
attending  the  return  of  the  Princes  to  Court  being 
experienced  at  his  first  audience.  Something  approach- 
ing to  a  brawl  took  place  in  the  Queen's  presence 
owing  to  their  refusal  to  admit  the  right  of  the  Due  de 
Nevers  to  share  their  bench.  Ten  days  later,  on  the 
feast  of  St.  Louis,  the  solemn  signature  of  the  con- 
tracts of  marriage  took  place. 

In  the  King's  presence-chamber — -which  that  morning 
he  had  personally  helped  to  prepare  for  the  ceremony 
of  the  evening — the  momentous  business  was  trans- 
acted. Princes,  princesses,  officers  of  State,  ambas- 
sadors, crowded  the  room  as  the  contract  was  read,  all 
uncovering  whensoever  the  name  of  King  or  Queen 
occurred.  Then  came  the  affixing  of  the  signatures, 
Louis  signing  first,  followed  by  his  mother  and 
Madame — whom  he  jogged  with  his  elbow  as  she 
inscribed  her  name.  Queen  Marguerite  came  next ;  and 
the  Ambassadors,  the  Nuncio,  and  the  Princes  in  turn 
added  their  autographs.  Marie,  obstinate,  determined, 
headstrong,  had  triumphed  ;  her  will  had  been  executed. 

At  Madrid  all  had  prospered,  save  that  Mayenne 
had  permitted  pleasure  to  follow  upon  business,  and 
had  paid  overmuch  attention  to  Spanish  ladies  to 
please  Spanish  taste.  Anne  had  testified  no  reluctance 
to  be  married. 

18 


274  The  Making  of  a  King 

"Say  that  1  am  very  impatient  to  see  him/'  she  told 
Mayenne,  who,  taking  his  departure — the  articles  duly 
signed — had  inquired  if  sjie  had  any  orders  to  give 
him  with  regard  to  the  King,  his  master. 

"  Eh,  Madame,"  remonstrated  her  gouvernante,  as 
she  heard  the  child's  message  ;  "  what  will  the  King 
of  France  think  when  M.  le  Due  tells  him  that  you 
are  so  anxious  to  be  married  ? " 

Anne  was  impenitent. 

"You  have  taught  me,"  she  retorted,  "that  the 
truth  must  always  be  spoken,  and  I  am  acting  on  that 
lesson." 

She  also  sent  Louis  a  scarf,  made  with  her  own 
hands — an  honour  he  totally  failed  to  appreciate. 
It  was  a  day  of  magnificent  presents.  His  mother 
was  having  a  diamond  necklace  of  immense  value 
made  for  her  future  daughter-in-law  ;  informing  her 
own  daughter,  with  complacency,  that  it  would  show 
Spaniards  that  she  came  of  a  good  family — which 
was  perhaps  a  not  unnatural  view  for  a  Medicis  to  take 
of  the  evidences  of  race.  Madame  herself  had  been 
presented  with  a  splendid  box,  covered  with  diamonds, 
on  behalf  of  the  Prince  of  Spain  ;  and  when  Louis 
received  for  his  share,  on  the  same  day,  a  gift  possess- 
ing a  merely  sentimental  value,  he  was  in  no  wise 
gratified. 

In  spite  of  the  lull  in  the  hostilities  between  the 
Princes  and  the  Regent,  Paris  continued  to  be  far  from 
tranquil.  Every  man's  hand  was  against  every  man 
where  rival  interests  conflicted  ;  nor  was  any  means 
of  injuring  an  enemy  despised,  whether  it  took  the 
form  of  stabbing  a  foe  in  the  open  streets  or  recourse 


The  Due  de  Bellcgarde  275 

was  had  to  more  secret  and  unobtrusive  methods.  The 
Due  de  Bellegarde,  Grand  Equerry,  more  commonly 
called  M.  le  Grand,  was,  if  report  did  him  no  wrong, 
engaged  about  this  time  in  a  private  enterprise  of  his 
own,  of  this  last  kind,  directed  against  the  Concini 
couple. 

Bellegarde  was  a  prominent  figure  at  Court.  A 
close  attendant  upon  the  late  King,  he  had  been  a 
frequent  guest  at  Saint-Germain  in  Louis's  childish 
days,  and  the  strong  liking  entertained  for  him  by  the 
boy  would  in  itself  have  sufficed  to  render  him  an 
object  of  suspicion. 

"  Here  is  an  honest  man,"  Louis  had  remarked, 
taking  hold  of  the  Duke's  beard  with  a  laugh,  as  he 
received  the  formal  salutations  of  the  Knights  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  at  Rheims  ;  and  Heroard  notes  that,  on 
the  return  of  the  Grand  Equerry,  after  an  absence, 
in  the  course  of  the  present  year,  the  King  made  him 
welcome  cc  avec  transport." 

These  facts  alone  would  have  caused  him  to  be 
regarded  with  jealousy  by  other  aspirants  to  Louis's 
favour  ;  it  was  also  natural  that,  as  an  attached  servant 
of  Henri's,  Bellegarde  should,  for  his  part,  have  been 
in  opposition  to  Concini  and  his  wife,  and  anxious 
to  combat  their  influence.  Despairing,  as  Richelieu 
surmised,  of  compassing  his  purpose  by  legitimate 
and  human  means,  he  resolved  to  resort  to  diabolical 
methods.  There  was  at  Paris  a  certain  Moisset  who, 
from  a  simple  tailor,  had  risen  to  wealth  and  opulence, 
and  was  likewise  understood  to  indulge  in  illicit  practices. 
This  gentleman  was  said  to  have  offered  to  put  Belle- 
garde  into  communication  with  persons  who,  by  means 


276  The  Making  of  a  King 

of  an  enchanted  mirror,  would  supply  him  with 
accurate  information  as  to  the  degree  of  favour  en- 
joyed by  the  Marquis  and  his  wife,  and  who  would 
moreover  enable  him  to  secure  the  like  for  himself. 
The  Duke  was  reported  to  have  fallen  in  readily 
with  the  suggestion  ;  but,  before  it  had  been  put  into 
operation,  the  Concini  had  got  wind  of  the  affair, 
apparently  through  the  very  dealers  in  the  black  art 
who  were  to  have  been  employed  against  them  ;  the 
matter  was  taken  up  by  the  Queen,  and  for  a  time 
the  ruin  of  the  Grand  Equerry  appeared  imminent. 

Such  was  one  account  of  the  matter.  The  Tuscan 
Secretary,  Ammirato,  gave  a  more  definite  colour  to 
the  transaction.  According  to  him  the  plot,  whatever 
it  was,  had  been  revealed  to  the  Regent  and  the 
Chancellor  by  a  Spaniard  introduced  by  the  papal 
Nuncio.  This  man  reported  that  certain  persons  he 
named  were  implicated  in  a  design,  by  means  of  a 
mirror,  to  inspire  the  Queen  with  love,  and  thus  to 
gain  control  over  her  will.  Moisset  and  Bellegarde 
were  denounced  as  guilty  ;  and  Guise,  at  this  time 
closely  allied  to  the  latter,  hurried  to  Normandy, 
where  his  friend  was,  to  bring  him  to  Paris  to 
answer  to  the  charge.  Bellegarde,  as  might  have  been 
expected,  indignantly  asserted  his  innocence,  and,  going 
with  Guise  to  the  Queen,  told  her  plainly  that  his 
birth  and  position  should  have  safeguarded  him  from 
doubts  which  were  mere  inventions  of  his  enemies, 
and  that,  should  his  honour  be  attacked,  he  would 
know  how  to  take  vengeance. 

Guise,   in  still  more  violent  language,  declared  that 
M.  le  Grand's  true  offence  lay  in  the  fact  that  he  was 


Charge  against  Bellegarde 

his  friend  ;  that  if  this  was  to  be  the  way  in  which 
affairs  were  conducted  and  his  ruin  projected,  he  would 
die  sword  in  hand,  and  others  should  be  involved  in  his 
destruction,  with  more  of  the  same  kind  ;  and  though, 
some  days  later,  he  made  a  species  of  apology  for  the 
lack  of  respect  he  had  shown  the  Regent,  it  was  accom- 
panied by  reiteration  of  his  complaints  and  of  his 
determination  that  others  should  suffer  by  his  ruin. 

His  impassioned  partisanship  of  Bellegarde,  as  well 
as  his  violent  denunciation  of  the  forces  at  work 
against  himself,  was  of  course  a  declaration  of  war  against 
Marie,  and  as  such  the  Queen,  as  she  answered  him 
coldly,  must  have  understood  it. 

In  the  end  the  question  of  sorcery  was  passed 
over,  the  charge  against  Moisset  was  made  to  deal  with 
the  more  material  crime  of  false  coinage,  and  that 
against  the  Grand  Equerry  tacitly  withdrawn.  The 
Parlement  had  taken  cognisance  of  the  affair  ;  but 
that  body  was  not  to  be  trusted  where  d'Ancre  was 
concerned ;  and  he  was  ultimately  persuaded  that 
it  was  more  to  his  interest  to  allow  the  matter  to  drop 
than  to  risk  an  adverse  verdict.  The  suit  was  removed 
from  the  official  records  and  burnt.  There  was  no 
further  question  of  consulting  the  magic  mirror — M. 
Zeller  believes  it  may  have  been  a  case  of  hypnotic 
suggestion — and  Bellegarde  continued  to  fill  his  post 
in  the  King's  household  as  before. 

An  incident  occurring  in  the  course  of  the  affair  had 
shown  the  excitable  condition  of  the  Paris  of  that  day. 
A  soldier  of  the  guard,  accused  of  connection  with  the 
coiners,  had  taken  flight,  pursued  by  those  charged 
with  the  duty  of  apprehending  him.  The  words  they 


278  The  Making  of"  a  King 

shouted  after  the  fugitive  were  misunderstood  ;  it  was 
said  that  the  King  had  been  killed  like  his  father  ;  in 
a  moment  the  streets  were  filled  with  a  weeping  and 
sobbing  crowd  ;  the  gates  of  the  city  were  shut  and  an 
immense  multitude  collected  at  the  Louvre.  Even  at 
the  palace  itself  the  report  was  widely  believed  ;  Louis 
was  out  driving  at  the  moment  ;  his  mother,  though 
affecting  incredulity,  was  terror-struck  ;  nor  was  it  until 
the  King  reached  home  and  was  heard  demanding  that 
his  dinner  should  be  brought  in  forthwith  that  her 
anxiety  was  allayed.  On  the  following  morning  the 
boy  was  taken  to  Mass  at  Notre  Dame,  that  he  might 
be  shown,  safe  and  sound,  to  the  people,  who  received 
him  with  affectionate  acclamation. 

For  the  rest,  the  whole  episode  had  done  no  more 
than  show  the  violent  antagonism  of  the  various 
parties  at  Court.  Moisset  was  acquitted  of  the  charges 
brought  against  him  ;  and  the  fact  that,  with  a  total 
lack  of  decency  and  decorum,  d'Ancre  had,  before 
the  trial  took  place,  put  in  a  claim  to  the  property 
of  the  accused  in  case  of  his  condemnation,  increased 
the  dislike  entertained  for  him.  The  Queen,  too, 
was  considered  to  have  shown  partiality,  and  for- 
feited a  portion  of  the  popularity  she  could  ill  spare. 
Hints  of  coming  trouble  were  thrown  out  in  the 
communications  of  the  Tuscan  Resident  to  his 
Government ;  and,  quoting  the  opinion  of  men  ac- 
quainted with  Louis's  disposition  and  character,  he 
looked  forward  to  a  time,  not  more  than  four  or  five 
years  distant,  when  his  mother  would  have  lost  all 
authority  over  him.  Hasty,  hot-tempered,  and  wilful, 
it  was  thought  not  impossible  that,  under  the  influence 


Photo  by  A.  Giraudon,  after  a  contemporary  drawing  in  the  Bibliotheque  National. 


CHARLES    DE    BOURBON, 
Comte  de  Soissons. 


Death  of  the  Comte  de  Soissons         279 

of  the  Princes  or  others  opposed  to  the  Queen,  he 
would  evince  a  desire  to  take  the  government  upon 
himself. 

u  In  an  interview  I  had  with  the  Marquise  d'Ancre," 
he  added,  "  I  divined  that  neither  she  nor  the  Queen 
is  far  from  entertaining  some  such  suspicion."  The 
suspicion  was  to  be  amply  justified. 

The  autumn  was  stormy  ;  all  the  great  nobles  were 
malcontent.  Most  of  them,  after  their  fashion  if 
they  felt  they  had  a  special  grievance  against  the 
Regent,  were  withdrawing  to  the  provinces  ;  another 
cause  for  anxiety  was  supplied  by  the  attitude  of  the 
Protestant  party,  who,  their  apprehensions  quickened 
by  the  Spanish  alliance,  were  showing  a  spirit  of  in- 
subordination, if  not  sedition.  Nothing  was  incredible 
to  the  common  people  ;  the  expulsion  of  the  adherents 
of  the  Religion  from  France  was  believed  by  them  to 
be  in  contemplation,  and  the  Huguenot  nobles  had 
their  own  reasons  for  distrust.  Things  were  in  this 
condition  when  one  chief  factor  of  disquietude  was 
removed  by  the  death  of  the  Comte  de  Soissons  from 
smallpox.  With  him  the  most  turbulent  spirit  passed 
away  and  the  party  of  the  Princes  of  the  Blood  was 
deprived  of  its  practical  head.  His  son  was  a  child  ; 
Conti  was  of  no  account  ;  and  only  Conde  remained. 
The  important  government  of  Normandy,  which 
Soissons  had  held,  was  reclaimed  by  the  Regent  in  the 
name  of  her  second  son,  and  she  could  breathe  more 
freely. 

During  the  summer  the  quarrels  of  the  Queen  with 
Vendome,  and  his  absences  from  Paris,  will  have  left 
Louis  often  without  the  companionship  he  was  ac- 


28o  The  Making  of  a  King 

customed  to  find  in  him.  For  this  he  probably  cared 
little.  Lonely  now,  the  King  was  destined  to  be  lonely 
all  his  life.  Yet  some  few  there  were  amongst  those 
around  him  whom  he  loved*  and  trusted.  It  has  been 
seen  that  he  was  attached  to  Bellegarde.  When,  a  year 
or  two  later,  he  was  told  of  the  death  of  the  Chevalier 
de  Guise,  he  turned  pale  and  expressed  his  grief  at  the 
loss  of  a  man  closely  associated  with  his  daily  life. 

"  He  was  always  with  me,"  he  said.  "  I  never  went 
hunting  without  him." 

Amongst  his  attendants  at  Saint-Germain  he  had 
singled  out  his  first  usher,  Birat,  and  a  soldier  of  the 
guard,  named  Descluseaux,  as  objects  of  affection  ; 
and  his  principal  valet,  a  German  named  Beringhen, 
had  been  in  his  service  from  his  infancy.  "  He  says 
M.  de  Beringhen's  name  very  well,"  recorded  Heroard 
when  he  was  two  years  old,  and  twenty-seven  years  later, 
when  he  was  thought  to  be  dying  and  all  around  were 
waiting  for  the  end  and  calculating  its  possible  results, 
it  was  from  Beringhen's  hand  alone  that,  distrustful  of 
every  one  else,  he  would  take  nourishment — a  melan- 
choly proof  of  what  those  twenty-seven  years  were  to 
hold  for  the  boy  at  present  the  centre  of  so  much 
thought  and  care. 

Meantime,  at  eleven  years  old  and  with  the  dignity 
of  an  affianced  husband  added  to  his  other  claims  to 
consideration,  he  continued  to  be  subjected  to  strict 
discipline,  and  the  whip  was  in  force.  If  he  preferred, 
at  times,  to  abide  the  consequences  of  resistance  to 
lawful  authority  than  to  obey,  it  may  be  that  Souvre, 
remembering  that  his  charge  was  advancing  towards 
majority,  called  to  mind  an  admonition  Louis  had 


Discipline  281 

once  addressed  to  him.  Having  declined  to  say  his 
prayers,  the  Queen  had  directed  the  gouverneur  to 
enforce  devotion  with  the  rod.  It  must  be  done,  the 
King  had  admitted,  with  a  fine  show  of  impartiality, 
since  such  was  his  mother's  command  ;  "  but  take  care," 
he  added,  "  not  to  hit  me  hard."  On  another  occasion, 
somewhat  later,  the  Due  de  Bouillon,  as  Marshal  of 
France,  was  called  upon  to  arrange  a  treaty  of  peace. 
Souvre  and  his  pupil  had  had  a  quarrel,  giving  rise 
to  just  apprehension  on  the  part  of  the  latter  that  the 
whip  would  be  applied.  Alleging  that  Souvre  was  in 
a  passion — which  was  not  improbably  true — Louis  de- 
manded that  the  Duke  should  cause  him  to  take  an 
oath  that  he  would  never  more  give  way  to  anger  and 
would  forget  all  that  was  past. 

Bouillon,  with  his  own  reservations,  obeyed.  "  M. 
de  Souvre,  lift  your  hand,"  he  ordered.  "You  promise 
never  to  be  angry  so  long  as  the  King  conducts  himself 
well  ?  " 

The  gouverneur's  pledge  given,  Bouillon  turned  to 
Louis. 

"  And  you,  Sire,  lift  your  hand.  You  promise 
always  to  conduct  yourself  well  ?  " 

The  King  took  the  oath.  It  may  be  doubted  whether 
it  was  kept  by  either  gouverneur  or  pupil. 

The  rod  was  not  the  sole  means  by  which  his  offences 
were  brought  home  to  the  culprit  ;  and,  when  once  he 
had  firmly  refused  to  take  physic,  he  was  quick  to 
perceive  in  the  hearing  of  those  who  attended  his  lever 
the  result  of  the  Queen's  directions. 

4  The  Queen,  my  mother,  has  ordered  that  I  am  to 
be  kept  in  disgrace  (que  Fon  me  fasse  la  mine)"  he 


282  The  Making  of  a  King 

grumbled  to  Mademoiselle  de  Vendome.  "They  would 
all  be  very  much  astonished  if  I  were  to  keep  them  in 
disgrace  "  ;  then,  addressing  himself  in  particular  to  the 
old  Duchesse  de  Guise,  "  Eh  bien  !  Madame  de  Guise," 
he  asked  her,  "  are  you  one  of  those  who  are  keeping 
me  in  disgrace  P"  and,  making  a  face  at  her,  turned 
away. 

The  year  closed  in  peace.  Louis  and  his  sister  spent 
New  Year's  Eve  in  making  butter-cakes  in  Madame's 
apartment ;  and  so  1612  ended.  The  opening  of  the 
New  Year  was  marked  by  a  bloody  incident  giving 
little  promise  of  future  tranquillity. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
1613 

Murder  of  the  Baron  de  Luz — Its  motives  and  its  effect  at  Court — 
Marie  reconciled  with  the  Guises — Louis  intervenes  in  a  criminal 
case — His  spirit  of  justice — d'Ancre  in  temporary  disgrace — He  is 
made  Marshal  of  France — Peace  or  war  ? 


"'HE  Baron  de  Luz  killed  by  the  Chevalier  de 
Guise,  at  the  entrance  to  the  rue  de  Crenelle. 
The  King  has  a  French  comedy  performed."  Thus 
runs  the  entry  in  Heroard's  Journal  for  January  5, 
1613.  It  is  his  solitary  reference  to  an  event  which 
had  set  Paris  aflame. 

The  Chevalier  was  the  youngest  of  the  Guise  brothers, 
hot-headed  and  violent.  Accounts  of  his  performance 
differed,  according  as  the  writer  inclined  to  the  Guise 
faction  or  to  their  opponents.  By  some  it  was 
represented  as  a  more  or  less  fairly  conducted  fight, 
by  others  it  was  regarded  rather  in  the  light  of  an 
assassination.  What  was  certain  was  that  the  affair 
had  been  deliberately  planned.  Luz  had  not  lost  his 
life  owing  to  any  outbreak  of  passion.  It  was  also 
generally  considered  that  he  had  not  been  given  a  fair 
chance  of  defending  himself.  It  was  affirmed  that 
Guise,  young,  strong,  armed,  and  accompanied,  had 
laid  wait  for  an  old  man  with  the  purpose  of  putting 
him  to  death,  and  had  accomplished  the  deed  without 

283 


284  The  Making  of  a  King 

allowing  his  antagonist  time  to  draw  his  sword  from 
the  scabbard.  If  Malherbe,  who  recorded  the  occurrence 
on  the  day  it  happened,  is  to  be  trusted,  this  account  of 
the  matter  was  exaggerated,  but  it  is  plain  that  the 
Chevalier  was  considered  to  have  taken  his  foe  at  a 
disadvantage ;  and  the  Queen — no  enemy  to  the 
Guises — was  filled  with  horror  and  indignation,  and 
spoke  with  sarcastic  scorn  of  the  courage  shown  in 
slaying  a  defenceless  old  man  without  so  much  as  crying 
"  Gare."  Such,  she  said  to  Bassompierre,  in  an  access 
of  indiscreet  wrath,  were  the  tricks  of  the  family. 

The  crime  was  ascribed  to  various  causes.  Guise 
himself  alleged,  as  a  pretext,  that  de  Luz  had  boasted 
that  he  had  had  a  share  in  the  murder  of  the  Duke,  his 
father.  Others  asserted  that  the  Baron  had  been  in 
possession  of  dangerous  secrets  of  the  Guise  party,  and 
was  judged  best  out  of  the  way ;  it  was  stated,  again,  that 
he  had  incurred  the  resentment  of  Bellegarde  and  his 
adherents,  in  league  with  the  house  of  Lorraine,  by 
intrigues  with  d'Ancre,  and  that  the  Chevalier  was  chosen 
as  the  instrument  of  vengeance.  The  murder  has  been 
also  considered  the  result  of  jealous  passion.  According 
to  Malherbe,  a  lady  to  whom  the  Chevalier  appears  to 
have  been  paying  court  described  a  scene  taking  place 
the  previous  evening  ;  when,  making  love  to  her  at  the 
palace,  young  Guise  had  boasted  that  he  was  the  wood 
of  which  Marshals  of  France  were  fashioned,  the  lady 
replying  lightly  that  it  was  very  dry  wood.  Later  on, 
she  had  noticed  that  he  was  watching  de  Luz  with  a 
malevolent  eye,  and  had  asked  him  what  was  the 
matter.  The  Baron,  she  added,  in  jest  or  earnest, 
was  her  lover,  and  the  Chevalier  must  do  him  no  harm. 


Murder  of  de  Luz 

"  I  would  rather  have  an  arm  broken  than  that  he 
should  wed  you,"  Guise  had  answered  hotly. 

Possibly  Madame  la  Comtesse  was  one  of  the  women 
who  would  willingly  believe  themselves  the  motive  of 
a  crime.  Possibly  jealousy  had  in  truth  its  share  in 
the  murder,  and  had  combined  with  other  causes  to 
direct  the  Chevalier's  conduct.  It  remained — a  more 
important  question  so  far  as  the  public  was  concerned — 
to  determine  upon  the  treatment  of  the  culprit,  belong- 
ing as  he  did  to  a  house  well  able  to  safeguard  its 
members  from  punishment.  Upon  this  question 
opinions  naturally  differed  widely.  The  foes  of  the 
house  of  Lorraine  were  eager  to  avail  themselves  of 
the  opportunity  to  damage  it,  even  advising  that  the 
outrage  should  be  avenged  upon  the  persons  of  the 
Dukes  of  Epernon  and  Guise — the  one  the  ally, 
the  other  the  brother,  of  the  delinquent — when  they 
presented  themselves  at  the  palace.  Such  counsels 
savoured  of  madness,  and  were  at  once  rejected  by 
the  Queen,  who  resolved,  more  wisely,  to  proceed 
against  the  Chevalier  by  legal  methods. 

Meantime,  notwithstanding  the  Due  de  Guise's 
disavowal  of  his  brother's  action  and  his  protestations 
that  he  had  known  nothing  of  it,  violence  of  language 
on  one  side  was  met  by  equal  violence  on  the  other. 
Conde  and  d'Ancre,  to  whose  party  the  dead  man  had 
belonged,  and  who  were  at  the  time  in  opposition  to 
the  Guises,  were  urgent  in  their  demand  for  vengeance. 
The  Guise  faction  made  a  parade  of  indifference,  de- 
claring openly  that  the  Chevalier  had  done  no  more 
than  his  duty  in  putting  to  death  a  man  concerned  in 
his  father's  death.  The  dowager  Duchess,  indignant  at 


286  The  Making  of  a  King 

reflections  upon  her  son,  spoke  with  so  much  insolence 
of  or  to  the  Queen  herself  that  Madame  de  Guerche- 
ville  bade  her  boldly  have  a  care — the  Queen  was 
her  mistress,  no  less  than  the  mistress  of  others.  To 
which  the  Duchess  replied,  with  more  fury  than  before, 
that  she  had  no  mistress  save  the  Virgin  Mary. 

The  Queen  had  no  doubt  acted  prudently  in  leaving 
the  law  to  take  its  course.  The  misfortune  was  that 
the  law  did  not  take  it.  The  ministers  responsible  for 
putting  its  machinery  in  motion,  though  willing  enough 
to  do  their  duty,  were  well  aware  of  the  strength  of 
the  party  opposed  to  them  ;  and  delay  after  delay  was 
interposed,  rousing  the  Regent  to  so  much  anger  that 
she  contemplated  removing  the  great  seal  from  Sillery 
and  placing  it  in  more  efficient  and  less  timid  hands. 
There  was  also  talk  of  Epernon's  arrest.  Had  d'Ancre 
and  his  friends  struck  whilst  the  iron  was  hot,  the 
ministers  might  have  fallen.  But  disputes  arose  respect- 
ing the  choice  of  a  successor  to  the  Chancellor,  should 
he  be  removed,  and  the  opportunity  was  lost. 

The  situation  was  critical.  The  Regent  presently 
found  that  she  stood  almost  alone,  alienated  alike 
from  her  ministers  and  from  Epernon,  once  her  chief 
support,  whilst  Guise  had  succeeded  in  making  up 
his  quarrel  with  Conde  and  his  party,  and  boasted 
that,  when  the  Queen  should  in  future  be  angry,  the 
Prince  would  no  longer  be  a  rod  wherewith  to  chastise 
him.  Even  d'Ancre  had  ranged  himself  on  the  side 
of  the  cabal,  and,  if  she  opposed  its  members,  was 
against  her. 

This  was  the  condition  of  things  a  week  after  the 
Baron  de  Luz's  murder.  At  that  time  Guise,  meeting 


Murder  of  de  Luz  287 

Bassompierre,  told  him  that  the  Queen's  hardness  of 
heart  had  frozen  his  own,  hitherto  impassioned  in  her 
service.  She  could  have  made  him  do  more  by  a  word 
than  the  rest  of  the  world  by  benefits.  He  had, 
however,  suffered  overmuch  neglect,  and  had  changed 
his  master  and  taken  another — namely,  the  Prince  and 
his  cabal.  One  day  the  Queen  would  learn  her 
mistake,  and  it  would  only  be  at  a  high  price  that  she 
would  buy  him  back. 

Such  was  the  bitter  complaint  of  the  brother  of  the 
murderer.  Bassompierre  felt  that  something  must  be 
done.  Belonging  to  no  party  save  that  of  King 
and  Queen,  "  paroissien  de  celui  qui  sera  cure,"  he 
was  a  fit  go-between,  and,  having  made  his  report  to 
the  Regent,  was  commissioned  by  her  to  offer  a  pro- 
pitiatory gift  to  Guise  of  100,000  crowns,  to  which, 
upon  his  suggestion,  she  added  the  recall  of  La  Roche- 
foucauld— banished  from  Paris  on  account  of  his  hot 
partisanship  of  the  Chevalier — an  important  gift  for  his 
sister,  the  Princesse  de  Conti,  and,  stranger  still,  the 
Lieutenant-Generalship  of  Provence  for  the  Chevalier. 
Guise  allowed  himself  to  be  persuaded,  on  these  terms, 

t  consent    to   a    reconciliation  with    the    Court ;    the 
nisters  were  included  in  the  pacification  ;  Epernon, 
marked  contrast  to  most  of  the  participants  in  the 
angement,   agreed    to    forget    his    grievances — since 
the  Queen  was  wife  and  mother  of  his  two  masters, 
dead  and  living — only  stipulating  that  nothing  should 
be    offered    him    in    return,    and    that    the    Regent 
should  treat  her  faithful  servants  better  for  the  future. 
11    were    satisfied,    save    the    Prince    de    Conde,    his 
rsonal  adherents,  the  Concini,  and  the  young  Baron 


288  The  Making  of  a  King 

de  Luz,  who,  seeing  little  hope  of  obtaining  justice, 
took  the  matter  into  his  own  hands,  sent  a  challenge 
to  his  father's  murderer^,  and,  meeting  him  in  fair 
fight,  was  slain. 

The  result  of  this  supplementary  tragedy  was 
singular.  Guise  became  forthwith  a  hero  in  public 
estimation,  and  was,  in  the  language  of  a  contemporary, 
lauded  as  a  Mars.  Even  Bassompierre  was  taken  by 
surprise  by  the  suddenness  of  the  reaction  in  his  favour. 
The  Chevalier  having  slain  the  father,  the  Parlement  had 
been  ordered  to  take  cognisance  of  the  deed,  to  inquire 
into  it,  and  to  set  on  foot  an  action  against  him.  Less 
than  a  week  later,  with  the  blood  of  the  dead  man's 
son  in  addition  on  his  hands,  the  Queen  sent  to  visit 
him  and  to  learn  how  his  wounds  were  progressing. 

Throughout  the  affair  the  Due  de  Guise  had  dis- 
played prudence  and  moderation  ;  had  shown,  or  pre- 
tended, disapproval  of  his  brother's  conduct,  and  had 
risen  in  the  estimation  of  the  world  to  a  degree  causing 
no  little  uneasiness  to  the  Regent.  The  episode  is 
worth  recording  in  detail,  representing  as  it  does 
the  main  character  and  features  of  this  stage  of  the 
Regency. 

At  the  very  time  that  Bassompierre  was  hurrying 
from  the  Queen  to  Guise,  and  from  Guise  to  Sillery  and 
his  colleagues,  in  the  endeavour  to  compose  matters, 
the  boy-King,  in  his  part  of  the  palace,  was  also  pre- 
occupied by  a  criminal  case  which  had  likewise  been 
referred  to  the  decision  of  the  Parlement.  In  the  eyes 
of  the  Court  it  would  have  been  of  the  smallest  possible 
consequence,  the  question  being  merely  whether  an 
insignificant  country-woman  should  or  should  not 


Louis  Intervenes  289 

suffer  the  capital  penalty.  But  Louis  took  a  different 
view  of  the  affair. 

Riding  home  from  hunting  on  a  certain  January 
day,  not  a  week  after  de  Luz's  murder,  a  woman, 
probably  on  her  way  to  the  prison  to  which  she  was 
to  be  consigned,  flung  herself  at  his  feet,  imploring 
mercy.  Condemned  at  Senlis,  on  the  charge  of  having 
caused  the  death  of  her  unborn  child,  she  had  appealed 
to  the  Parlement,  and  had  consequently  been  brought 
to  Paris  to  abide  its  sentence. 

Having  listened  to  her  story  and  weighed  the  facts 
in  a  judicial  spirit  remarkable  in  a  child  of  eleven,  the 
King  gave  his  orders.  She  was  to  be  kept  in  a  place 
apart,  and  not  taken  to  the  Conciergerie  until  such 
time  as  he  had  conferred  with  his  mother. 

u  The  Parlement  would  put  her  to  death,"  he  told 
Souvre,  and  was,  likely  enough,  right. 

Louis  was  determined  that,  if  he  could  compass  it, 
she  should  be  saved.  Nor  was  he  acting  upon  any 
blind  impulse  of  compassion  ;  judging  and  considering 
the  evidence,  so  far  as  he  was  acquainted  with  it,  with 
care.  The  proofs  of  the  death  were  not,  he  said, 
certain  ;  the  woman  had  been  condemned  upon  con- 
jecture. Lest  his  influence  with  the  Queen  should 
not  be  sufficient,  he  begged  that  Souvre  and  Bassom- 
pierre  would  likewise  add  their  intercessions,  and  sent 
his  nurse  to  ask  the  Marquise  d'Ancre  to  persuade  his 
mother  to  bestow  a  pardon  upon  the  culprit. 

He  had  put  forward  the  arguments  in  her  favour 
earnestly,  "  avec  passion,"  and,  having  taken  his 
measures,  remained  wrapped  in  uneasy  thought. 

"  Ceci  me  met  en  peine,"  he  told  Souvre  suddenly 

19 


290  The  Making  of  a  King 

and  almost  with  tears  ;  continuing  for  some  days  his 
efforts  to  effect  his  purpose,  and,  after  they  had  been 
attended  with  success,  m  taking  care  that  money  was 
supplied  to  his  prot£g£e,  and  that  she  was  enabled  to 
return  to  her  home  in  the  country. 

The  trouble  and  thought  Louis  expended  on  the 
affair  were  curiously  at  variance  with  the  spirit  of  the 
Court.  Nor  was  it  a  solitary  instance  of  that  love  of 
justice  and  fair  dealing  afterwards  winning  him  the 
title  of  le  Juste.  He  refused  to  recognise,  as  those 
around  him  would  have  had  him  do,  the  privilege  of 
a  King  to  override  the  rights  of  his  subjects.  Thus, 
the  owner  of  some  pigeons  having  declined  to  give  them 
up,  Luynes  would  have  had  him  take  them  by  force. 
Everything,  urged  other  courtiers  present,  belonged 
to  the  King.  Let  him  have  the  birds  seized. 

The  boy  listened,  according  to  his  wont,  in  silence. 
When  at  length  he  spoke,  it  was  not  to  express  his 
acquiescence  in  the  course  suggested. 

"  Take  an  archer,"  he  ordered  Luynes,  "  and  bid 
that  man  bring  me  four  pigeons.  Say  I  will  pay  him 
more  than  their  value." 

Willingly  or  unwillingly,  the  command  was  obeyed. 
The  recalcitrant  possessor  of  the  birds  was  introduced 
into  the  King's  presence,  and,  instead  of  the  forty  sous 
at  which  he  valued  them,  received  a  crown. 

The  partial  pacification  following  upon  the  pardon 
of  the  Chevalier  de  Guise  left  the  Court  merry. 
There  were  plays  and  ballets  and  dancing,  the  Prince's 
cabal  alone  holding  aloof.  Bassompierre,  as  the  instru- 
ment of  the  Queen's  reconciliation  with  the  house  of 


Paris  Gay  291 

Lorraine  and  with  Epernon,  was  in  special  favour  with 
her,  and,  when  Conde  left  him  out  from  an  enter- 
tainment to  which  all  the  rest  of  the  Court  was  bidden, 
Marie  invited  him  to  a  private  party  of  her  own.  It 
was  true  that  he  had  to  pay  for  her  kindness  by 
declining  to  attend  a  ball  at  the  house  of  the  Due  de 
Longueville  to  which  the  Regent  herself  had  not  been 
asked  ;  but,  though  he  felt  the  price  to  be  heavy,  there 
were  manifest  advantages  to  be  reaped  from  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  favour  of  the  head  of  the  Government. 
D'Ancre,  under  a  temporary  cloud,  had  retired,  at  the 
Queen's  suggestion,  to  his  post  as  Governor  of  Amiens ; 
and  she  sent  him  a  message  that  she  would  teach 
him  obedience ;  adding  that,  were  it  not  for  his  wife, 
he  would  have  gone  to  a  place  he  would  not  have 
been  able  to  quit  at  his  will.  If  sceptics  doubted 
whether  the  Queen's  severity  was  genuine  or  assumed, 
the  disgrace  of  the  favourite,  real  or  pretended, 
contributed  to  the  gaiety  of  those  he  left  behind. 

During  the  summer  the  Queen  was  afforded  a 
welcome  distraction  from  cares  of  State  by  the  success 
of  one  of  the  matrimonial  arrangements  in  which  she 
was  always  engaged.  Having  failed  to  marry  young 
Montmorency  to  any  of  her  Italian  nieces,  she  had 
succeeded  in  contriving  a  match  between  him  and  the 
daughter  of  her  kinsman,  Virgilio  Orsini,  Duke  of 
Bracciano.  Married  in  Italy  by  proxy,  the  bride  was 
sent  to  France  and  consigned  to  the  care  of  the  Queen 
until  the  arrival  in  Paris  of  the  bridegroom  two  or 
three  weeks  later.  Marie's  satisfaction  was  great.  A 
rumour  had  been  afloat,  ascribed  by  her  to  the  malice 
of  Conde,  to  the  effect  that  the  Princess  was  deformed, 


292  The  Making  of  a  King 

and  relief  possibly  mingled  with  her  gratification  when 
the  story  proved  to  be  false.  Though  endowed  with 
no  remarkable  beauty,  if  was  the  general  opinion  that 
age  and  development  would  improve  the  girl's  appear- 
ance, and  Montmorency,  on  his  arrival,  showed  no 
dissatisfaction  with  his  bride,  who  had  meantime  been 
arrayed  in  French  fashion  so  that  she  might  appear  to 
advantage.  The  Queen  and  King  were  present  at  the 
introduction  of  bride  and  bridegroom,  and  all  went 
well,  save  that  the  little  Chevalier  de  Souvre,  having 
intruded  himself  surreptitiously  where  he  was  not 
wanted,  underwent  corporal  punishment  in  conse- 
quence. 

A  more  important  matter  claimed  Marie's  attention 
whenever  she  had  leisure  to  bestow  upon  it.  This  was 
the  projected  betrothal  of  her  own  daughter  Christine 
to  the  Prince  of  Wales  ;  but  though  ambassadors  came 
and  went,  and  the  preliminaries  of  the  match  were 
much  under  discussion,  the  affair  made  little  progress. 

In  the  meantime  the  species  of  disgrace  in  which 
d'Ancre  had  remained  at  Amiens  had  suddenly  come 
to  an  end,  and  he  had  returned  to  resume  his  place 
at  Court.  A  reconciliation  with  Epernon  and  Guise 
followed,  and  it  was  plain  that  he  had  fully  re- 
gained his  former  place  in  the  Queen's  favour.  On 
November  19  the  seal  was  put  to  a  matter  of  public 
scandal  and  he  took  the  oath  as  Marshal  of  France 
— an  honour  conferred  upon  him  by  the  Regent  with 
a  total  disregard  of  the  sentiments  aroused  by  the 
appointment  to  the  highest  dignity  in  the  French  army 
of  a  foreigner  who  not  only  had  never  served  in  it, 
but  in  view  of  whose  antecedents  it  was  necessary 


Louis's  Moods  of  Dejection 

abolish  the  ancient  custom  of  reciting  before  the 
Parlement  his  titles  to  the  distinction. 

No  one  had  power  to  gainsay  the  will  of  the  Queen ; 
and  in  the  presence  of  the  young  King,  who  had  never 
disguised  his  dislike  for  his  mother's  favourite,  d'Ancre 
took  the  oath,  making  a  speech  in  humble  acknow- 
ledgment of  the  benefits  conferred  upon  a  foreigner 
who  had  come  empty-handed  to  France.  The  King 
listened  and,  perhaps,  contemplated  a  day  when  the 
dignity  of  France  would  be  no  longer  prostituted  as 
at  present. 

It  had  been  observed,  with  some  uneasiness,  by  those 
about  him  during  the  previous  months,  that  Louis  had 
become  subject  to  a  melancholy  unnatural  at  his  age, 
and  efforts  were  made  to  provide  him  with  amuse- 
ment to  distract  his  mind.  Whether  the  illuminations 
and  displays  of  fireworks  had  the  desired  effect  does 
not  appear  ;  it  was  perhaps  partly  in  consequence  of 
his  moods  of  depression  that  the  Queen  was  beginning 

reconsider  the  sentence  of  banishment  she  had  passed 
upon  the  Chevalier  de  Vendome,  and  to  contemplate 
recall  before  Louis's  majority  should  enable  him, 
no  grace  of  her  own,  to  recover  the  society  of  his 
vourite  playmate.  It  was  not,  however,  till  three 
ears  later  that  the  Chevalier  was  to  return  to  Court. 

It  would  be  tedious,  as  well  as  impossible  within  the 

its  of  the  present  volume,  to  follow  in  detail  the 
shifting  combinations  of  parties  at  this  period.  If 
one  element  of  turbulence  had  been  removed  in 
Soissons,  Conde,  avaricious  and  grasping  and  anxious 
to  accumulate  as  much  wealth  as  possible  during  the 
King's  minority,  was  always  advancing  fresh  demands, 


j 


294  The  Making  of  a  King 

and  was  pressing  for  the  important  governments  of 
Bordeaux  and  Chateau-Trompette.  The  grants  of 
money  intended  to  soften  the  refusal  of  posts  which, 
had  they  passed  into  his  possession,  would  have 
strengthened  his  position  to  a  dangerous  degree,  did 
not  avail  to  propitiate  him  and  his  party.  They  there- 
fore withdrew  in  a  body  to  their  several  provinces, 
whence  they  only  returned  when  the  important  question 
of  peace  or  war  arose  and  rendered  their  presence  in 
Paris  necessary. 

That  question  had  been  raised  in  consequence  of  a 
dispute  between  Mantua  and  Savoy,  following  upon 
the  death  of  the  Duke  of  Mantua.  The  Regent  took 
the  side  of  the  former,  connected  with  her  family, 
and  at  one  moment  it  seemed  likely  that  recourse 
would  be  had  to  arms,  and  that  France  would  be 
involved  in  the  struggle.  Assisting  at  a  Council  held 
for  the  consideration  of  the  matter,  Louis  listened  to 
his  mother  as  she  gave  her  voice  in  favour  of  a  warlike 
policy  and  expressed  his  concurrence. 

"  Madame,"  he  said,  "  I  am  very  glad.  War  must 
be  made." 

His  hopes  were,  however,  again  doomed  to  dis- 
appointment, and,  by  France  at  least,  the  affair  was 
allowed  to  drop.  It  must  have  been  plain  that  her 
present  condition  was  not  one  rendering  it  desirable 
that  she  should  intervene  in  foreign  quarrels. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


" 


1614 

The  Prince  and  his  friends  leave  Paris — Nevers  seizes  Mezieres — 
Contrary  counsels — Condi's  manifesto — Negotiations — Uneasiness 
at  Paris — Louis  at  the  Council-board — Peace  signed — Vendome 
rebellious — The  Prince  at  Poitiers — Court  to  go  to  Orleans. 

T  T  must  have  been  clear  to  the  least  observant  that 
the  continual  friction    between    the    Regent   and 
the  nobles  would  not   be   long  in   assuming  a   more 
acute  character  ;   that  open   and  avowed    conflict  was 
not  far  off,   when   the  smouldering  animosity  of  the 
Prince   and    his   adherents   would    burst    into    flame. 
The    policy    hitherto    pursued    by    Marie — "  yielding 
the  waves  to  avoid   the  shipwreck " — had   been   a 
desperate  one.     It    could    not,    moreover,    be    carried 
on  for  an  indefinite  period.     Posts,  honours,  money, 
ad  been   given   as  sops  to  the  malcontents,  and  still 
they  were  not  satisfied.     The  Treasury,  filled  by  the 
economies    of    Henri-Quatre    and    Sully,    had    been 
emptied,  and  emptied  to  no  purpose  ;  it  would  soon 
no  longer  possible  to  offer  bribes  of  sufficient  value 
o   quiet   Conde  and   his  partisans.     Force    would    be 
necessary  as  a  last  resort,  and  the  question  was   who 
would  prove  strongest. 

In  the  coming  struggle  Conde,  by  position  and  rank, 
ould    hold    the  position  of  leader  of  those    opposed 

295 


296  The  Making  of  a  King 

to  the  Government.  The  Regent  on  the  one  side, 
the  Princes  of  the  Blood — of  whom  Conde  was  for 
the  moment  practically  the  sole  representative — on  the 
other — this  was  the  situation  ;  and  an  almanack,  appear- 
ing at  the  beginning  of  the  year  1614,  struck  the 
note  of  warning.  The  King's  death  was  predicted, 
misfortunes  were  to  befall  the  Queen  ;  and  prosperity 
awaited  the  Prince  de  Conde.  The  conjunction  of  the 
three  prophecies  was  not  reassuring.  Timid  people 
took  alarm.  It  was  not  a  time  when  such  matters 
could  be  treated  with  contempt  ;  and  the  author  of 
the  forecasts  expiated  his  imprudence  in  the  galleys. 
Conde  was  known  to  be  acquainted  with  the  culprit  ; 
and  Louis,  having  heard  of  the  book,  was  said  to  have 
complained  of  it  bitterly  to  the  Prince. 

In  the  autumn  the  King's  minority  would  end  ;  time 
was  therefore  short,  if  his  mother  were  to  be  coerced 
and  intimidated  into  acceding  to  the  demands  of  the 
opposition.  Early  in  the  year,  accordingly,  the  Prince 
and  his  adherents  decided  upon  repeating,  in  an  accen- 
tuated form,  the  step  by  which  they  were  wont  to  mark 
their  dissatisfaction  with  the  conduct  of  affairs,  and 
withdrew  in  a  body  to  the  provinces.  Conde,  Mayenne, 
and  Nevers  went  first,  taking  leave  of  King  and  Queen 
with  due  decorum  ;  the  Prince  adding  a  perfunctory 
pledge,  imposing  on  no  one,  that  he  would  return 
whensoever  the  King  might  summon  him.  Bouillon, 
left  behind  to  offer  an  explanation  to  the  Chancellor 
before  following  his  confederates,  used  plain  language. 
He  told  Sillery  that  the  Prince  and  his  friends 
were  forced,  by  the  bad  government  of  the  country,  to 
put  an  end  to  the  ill  before  it  should  grow  incurable  ; 


r     1}  OYRBON    Prmtf  dc  Conde.  DM  <l/U?wt  rfO^nwucprmirr  Kna-  du  nmg.Sc 
frnttifr   Pair   df  France  Gotturrneur  SC  J^eutniant^ml  p^  le  Roy  rn  sfs  Pais  ttDvchei    df  B«ry 
Bm,rb< 


From  an  engraving  by  Huret. 


.296] 


HENRY    DE    BOURBON, 
Prince  de  Conde. 


Revolt  of  the  Nobles  297 

and  that  Conde  had  determined  to  make  a  representation 
on  the  subject  to  the  Regent,  and  would,  with  that 
object,  hold  an  unarmed  assembly  of  those  who  shared 
his  views,  and  submit  their  protest  to  her.  After  which, 
and  before  he  could  be  arrested,  in  accordance  with  the 
determination  arrived  at,  Bouillon  hastened  to  join  his 
friends.  The  lad,  Longueville,  followed  ;  and  lastly 
Vendome — who  had  been  placed  under  surveillance  at 
the  Louvre,  in  the  expectation  that  he  would  not 
remain  behind — escaping  from  the  guard  who  had  him 
in  charge,  fled  to  his  government  of  Brittany,  where, 
supported  by  the  Due  de  Retz,  a  local  potentate,  he  set 
to  work  to  collect  troops  and  to  fortify  one  or  two 
of  the  strongholds  of  the  province  ;  writing  to  the 
King  to  recapitulate  his  grievances  and  to  justify  his 
conduct. 

He  had  been  bidden,  he  said,  by  the  Queen,  in 
Louis's  presence  not  to  leave  Paris  without  permission  ; 
had  obeyed,  but  had  nevertheless  been  subsequently 
made  a  prisoner.  Ten  days  later  God,  treating  him 
according  to  the  purity  of  his  intentions,  had  set  him 
at  liberty  and,  taking  him  by  the  hand,  had  enabled 
him  to  reach  his  own  domains,  where  he  found  him- 
self threatened  with  being  deprived  of  his  government. 

All  of  which  the  Duke  felt  that  he  had  a  right  to 
resent. 

The  next  move  was  made  by  Nevers,  who  took 
forcible  possession  of  the  citadel  of  Mezieres,  on  the 
plea  of  his  rights  as  governor  of  the  province.  Over- 
coming the  resistance  opposed  to  him,  he  sent  to 
inform  the  Queen  of  its  capture,  as  though  it  had  been 
rescued  from  the  enemy  ;  announcing  his  purpose  of 


298  The  Making  of  a  King 

holding  the  fortress  for  the  King,  and  declaring  that  he 
was  ready  to  surrender  it  to  any  one  Louis  should 
appoint. 

Notwithstanding  his  expressions  of  loyalty  and  sub- 
mission, the  act  could  not  be  interpreted  otherwise 
than  as  displaying  an  intention  of  preparing  for  a 
struggle,  and  when  the  news  reached  Paris  excitement 
was  great.  Marie,  seized  with  panic,  had  thoughts  of 
resigning  the  Regency.  Some  of  the  Council  were  in 
favour  of  the  step,  others  against  it.  Amongst  these 
last  d'Ancre  was  naturally  prominent.  Were  power  to 
pass  from  the  Queen  he  must  have  known  that  his  day 
would  be  over  ;  and  it  was  determined  that  she  should 
continue  to  hold  the  reins  of  government. 

It  had  next  to  be  decided  whether  the  rebels 
should  be  approached  by  means  of  negotiation  and 
diplomacy  or  resort  should  be  had  to  arms.  Marie 
spoke  of  proceeding  to  Mezieres  with  troops,  of 
setting  forth  at  once  with  the  King  to  reduce  Nevers  to 
submission.  Villeroy  and  the  President  Jeannin,  who 
had  succeeded  Sully  in  the  charge  of  the  finances,  were 
in  favour  of  active  measures.  Sillery,  the  Chancellor, 
advocated  conciliation.  The  Queen,  he  pointed  out, 
save  for  the  Guises  and  fipernon,  stood  almost  alone  ; 
the  Huguenots  were  powerful,  and,  a  woman  and  a 
child  being  at  the  head  of  affairs,  caution  was  necessary. 
Supported  by  the  Concini,  the  Chancellor  prevailed. 

The  Prince,  meanwhile,  had  issued  a  manifesto  justify- 
ing his  conduct  as  an  attempt  to  reform  the  disorders  of 
the  kingdom,  to  be  accomplished,  if  possible,  by  peace- 
ful methods,  recourse  to  be  had  to  arms  solely  should 
that  step  be  necessary  in  the  interests  of  the  King  ; 


Civil  War  Imminent  299 

and  demanding,  in  conclusion,  that  the  States-General 
should  be  convened.  Under  these  circumstances,  the 
Queen  made  the  grave  mistake  of  parleying  with  the 
rebels.  It  was  true  that  warlike  preparations  were  also 
in  progress ;  fresh  levies  of  Swiss  were  made,  and  the 
reserves  were  called  out.  But,  pending  the  completion 
of  military  arrangements — to  take  effect  in  case  con- 
ciliation should  fail — de  Thou  was  dispatched  to 
confer  with  Conde  and  his  partisans,  taking  leave  of 
the  King  on  March  i. 

"  Go  and  tell  ces  messieurs-la  to  be  very  good,"  said 
the  boy,  placing  his  two  hands  upon  the  shoulders  of 
the  envoy,  as  he  bade  him  adieu.  It  would  have  been 
better  to  have  taken  steps  to  enforce  their  good 
behaviour. 

Civil  war  seemed  within  measurable  distance.  The 
two  parties  were  armed,  and  were  showing  every  dis- 
position to  increase  their  strength.  It  was  easy  for  the 
Princes  to  use  the  language  of  loyalty,  to  hoist  the 
white  flag  and  cross,  and  to  declare  that,  if  they  took 
up  arms,  or  even  went  further,  it  was  only  to  serve  the 
King  ;  their  meaning  was  well  understood,  and  the 
fact  that  the  Huguenots  appeared  to  be  inclined  to 
give  them  their  support  was  a  dangerous  feature  of  the 
struggle. 

The  Regent  was  taking  her  measures,  and  on  April  10 
the  King  reviewed  in  person  the  two  companies  of 
cavalry  usually  commanded  by  Nevers,  now  confided 
to  the  more  trustworthy  hands  of  Praslin.  Paris 
itself  was  not  considered  safe,  and  orders  were  issued 
that  when  Louis  left  the  palace  he  should  be  accom- 
panied by  an  armed  escort.  Informed  that  such  was 


joo  The  Making  of  a  King 

his  mother's  command,  the  boy  was  manifestly  dis- 
turbed. 

"  The  Parisians  will  think  that  I  am  afraid,"  he  said. 
"  I  am  not  afraid.  I  do  not  fear  them  " — meaning  the 
confederated  nobles.  cc  If  they  should  come,  should 
we  not  beat  them  ?  " 

"  Sire,"  was  the  answer,  <c  they  would  take  us  at  great 
disadvantage.  It  would  be  to  oppose  a  cloth  doublet 
to  one  of  steel." 

After  some  thought,  the  King  bowed  to  necessity. 

"  Eien"  he  said,  "  but  tell  them  to  wear  their  cloaks 
over  their  arms  as  they  pass  through  the  city." 

Louis  was  eager  for  the  resort  to  force  which  his 
mother  and  her  advisers  were  so  anxious  to  avoid. 
<c  The  King,"  Malherbe  had  written  in  February, 
"  displays  an  extreme  desire  to  go  to  war,  and  the  day 
before  yesterday  he  had  himself  armed  at  all  points, 
and  felt  so  much  satisfaction  at  finding  himself  thus 
equipped  that,  on  being  put  to  bed,  he  would  not  take 
off  his  helmet,  and  argued  for  long  that  he  would 
sleep  better  thus  than  wearing  his  night-cap.  At 
length,  however,  he  yielded  to  remonstrance  and  took 
it  off."  His  little  cousin,  Soissons,  was  no  less  eager 
to  be  up  and  doing.  He  wished  to  go  and  fight,  but 
would,  he  said,  obey  none  but  the  King.  To  his 
mother's  representations  that  he  was  not  yet  strong 
enough,  he  replied  that  war  was  nothing  but  knowing 
how  to  kill  a  man,  and  he  was  well  able  to  do  that. 

Changes  were  taking  place  in  the  conduct  of  affairs. 
Louis  was  beginning  to  appear  at  the  Council-board. 
The  ministers,  as  well  as  the  Queen,  though  they  might 
have  been  slow  to  desire  his  presence  there,  had  awakened 


Louis  at  the  Council-board  301 

to  the  fact  that  he  was  advancing  towards  his  majority, 
and  that  their  best  chance  of  retaining  power  after  that 
event  was  to  gain  his  ear  before  it.  All  was  uncer- 
tain, the  future  largely  dependent  upon  the  development 
of  a  child's  mind  and  tastes,  and  whilst  every  care  was 
taken  to  shape  them  to  the  advantage  of  those  in 
authority,  the  one  factor  which  was  to  prove  all-im- 
portant in  the  coming  years — namely,  the  influence  of 
De  Luynes — was  unsuspected. 

Notwithstanding  the  small  amount  of  encouragement 
Louis  had  received  to  occupy  himself  with  public 
questions,  he  was  giving  signs  of  having  formed 
opinions  of  his  own.  Those  opinions,  with  regard  to 
the  present  crisis,  were  not  in  accord  with  his  mother's. 
Under  the  influence  of  her  chosen  advisers,  the  Regent 
remained  strongly  in  favour  of  her  policy  of  con- 
ciliation. Louis  would  have  adopted  a  bolder  one  ; 
and  when  the  question  of  concessions  was  under  dis- 
cussion at  the  Council-board,  he  gave  his  voice  against 
yielding  to  the  demands  put  forward  by  Conde  and  his 
friends. 

Those  demands  were  indeed  extravagant.  A  hundred 
thousand  crowns  were  to  indemnify  the  Prince  for 
expenses  incurred  in  what  had  been  scarcely  less  than 
rebellion.  A  stronghold  was  to  be  placed  in  his  hands  ; 
another  to  be  entrusted  to  Bouillon.  None  of  the 
confederates  were  without  a  claim.  Peace  was  to  be 
bought  at  a  high  price. 

Whoever  might  be  willing  to  purchase  it  by  these 
means,  Louis  was  not.  Entering  unaccompanied  the 
chamber  where  the  Council  were  engaged  in  considering 
the  matter,  he  addressed  the  Queen  in  language 


302  The  Making  of  a  King 

making  his  wishes  plain.  Amboise,  he  said — the 
fortress  coveted  by  the  Prince — ought  not  to  be  made 
over  to  him.  "  If  he  wishes  to  come  to  terms,"  he 
said,  "  let  him  come  to  terms." 

The  Queen  was  manifestly  displeased. 

"  Sire,  who  has  advised  you  thus  ? "  she  asked. 
"That  man  desires  neither  your  welfare  nor  that  of 
the  kingdom." 

Making  no  reply  to  the  question,  Louis  reiterated 
his  wishes. 

"  My  mother,"  he  said,  "  by  no  means  give  him 
that  stronghold.  Let  the  Prince  do  as  he  likes." 

With  these  words  he  left  the  Council-chamber. 
"Such,"  says  M.  Zeller,  "was  the  first  official  and 
deliberate  manifestation  of  the  political  will  of  Louis 
XIII.  The  young  King  wanted  unconditional  obedi- 
ence. He  was  ready  to  go  and  enforce  it." 

Paris,  no  more  than  the  Regent,  shared  the  King's 
views.  With  a  vivid  recollection  of  former  civil  strife, 
the  capital  longed  for  peace.  Already  the  possibility 
of  war  had  caused  the  price  of  provisions  to  rise. 
From  the  provinces  came  reports  of  devastation 
wrought  by  the  soldiery.  As  the  negotiations  pro- 
ceeded, anxiety  intensified.  In  the  churches  the  Blessed 
Sacrament  was  exposed,  and  the  people  prayed  for  a 
peaceful  solution.  Great  was  the  joy  and  relief  when 
it  became  known  that  a  solution  had  been  reached. 
On  May  14  the  Prince  de  Conde  declared  himself 
satisfied  with  the  concession?  obtained  from  the  Queen, 
and  the  appeal  to  arms  was  at  least  postponed. 
After  many  resolutions  and  counter-resolutions  and 
much  discussion,  a  treaty  had  been  signed  embodying 


A  Temporary  Peace  303 

the  terms  agreed  upon.  The  States-General  were  to 
be  called  together  ;  a  general  disarmament  was  to  take 
place  on  both  sides,  and  the  royal  marriages  were  to 
be  suspended.  The  future  had  once  again  been 
mortgaged  for  the  sake  of  present  tranquillity. 

That  night,  when  the  King  was  in  bed,  Bellegarde 
whispered  the  news  in  his  ear,  the  boy  characteristically 
giving  no  sign  of  grief,  joy,  or  satisfaction,  and 
continuing  his  conversation  as  before.  When,  how- 
ever, most  of  the  company  had  withdrawn,  he  showed 
that  he  had  not  failed  to  appreciate  the  tidings  at  their 
true  importance. 

"Peace  is  made,"  he  told  the  two  attendants  who 
had  remained  with  him.  "  I  think  it  is  owing  to  the 
prayers  of  the  Forty  Hours." 

When,  on  the  following  Sunday,  an  envoy  arrived 
from  the  Prince  bringing  a  letter  addressed  to  the 
King  in  person,  Louis  again  showed  a  sense  of  the 
gravity  of  the  occasion.  Causing  M.  de  Souvre  to 
be  summoned,  he  had  the  messenger  introduced  into 
his  presence  in  due  form,  receiving  from  him  his 
master's  missive,  together  with  the  assurance  that  the 
Prince  kissed  the  King's  hands  and  was  his  very 
humble  servant. 

Louis's  answer  was  made  in  few  words  ;  after  which, 
having  read  the  letter,  he  merely  observed  to  Souvre 
that  he  wished  to  hear  Vespers  at  the  Cordeliers  and 
left  the  palace  without  further  speech  with  the  envoy. 
He  was  learning  discretion. 

A  fortnight  later  the  young  Due  de  Longueville — 
e  was    no    more    than    nineteen — came    to    offer    his 
submission    to  the    King  ;    "  making   him  some  little 


304  The  Making  of  a  King 

harangue,"  wrote  Malherbe,  "  and  the  King  a  still 
briefer  response."  The  Duke  afterwards  paid  his 
respects  to  the  Queen,  .whose  mask  concealed  from 
the  curious  any  sentiments  which  might  have  been 
legible  on  her  countenance  as  she  received  the  ex-rebel. 
To  his  deep  obeisances  she  responded  by  signing  to  him 
to  rise  ;  asked  whence  he  had  travelled  that  day,  and 
added  that  his  beard  was  growing  and  should  be  cut. 
He  was  accorded  a  pension  of  33,000  crowns  and 
must  have  been  satisfied  with  the  result  of  his  mis- 
demeanours. 

Mayenne  came  next,  well  escorted,  was  given  a 
cordial  welcome  at  Court  and  the  promise  of  the 
hand  of  the  King's  sister,  Catherine  de  Vendome, 
with  a  splendid  dowry.  He,  too,  had  reason  to  be 
content. 

The  rest  of  the  chief  confederates  remained  at  a 
distance,  though  profuse  in  their  professions  of  loyalty. 
It  was  said  that  Conde  did  not  intend  to  return  to 
Paris  until  the  attainment  of  the  King's  majority. 
Vend6me  was  openly  dissatisfied  with  the  turn  affairs 
had  taken.  He  had  held  aloof  from  the  peace  con- 
ferences, and,  though  included  in  the  general  pacifica- 
tion, stayed  in  his  government  of  Brittany,  having 
put  himself  still  further  in  the  wrong  by  opening 
dispatches  addressed  to  the  Due  de  Montbazon,  thus 
making  himself,  in  the  words  of  the  Regent,  guilty  of 
high  treason  for  the  sake  of  a  piece  of  paper.  Dis- 
regarding the  terms  of  the  treaty  concluded  between 
the  Queen  and  the  Prince,  he  continued  to  carry  on 
a  species  of  guerilla  warfare  in  his  government ;  and, 
writing  to  Marie  in  no  penitent  spirit,  said  that  he  asked 


From  an  engraving  by  L.  Messager. 


•MJ 

u 

hi 


Vendome  Obstinate  305 

neither  favours  nor  graces,  but  simply  not  to  be  driven 
to  desperation  by  the  antagonism  of  his  irreconcilable 
foes.  If  he  had  opened  Montbazon's  dispatches,  it 
had  been  in  conformity  with  his  duty,  as  governor 
of  Brittany,  of  examining  all  papers  dealing  with  that 
province. 

Vendome's  conception  of  his  duty  was  not  likely 
to  be  shared  at  Paris.  The  King  in  especial,  never 
over-fond  of  him,  was  indignant  at  the  insolence  of 
the  action.  Overheard  talking  in  his  sleep  of  the 
Bastille  and  asked  what  he  had  been  dreaming  of,  he 
answered  that  he  had  been  demanding  why  his  brother 
of  Vend6me  had  not  been  placed  there. 

"  He  opened  the  dispatches  I  sent  to  M.  de  Mont- 
bazon,"  he  added  with  anger. 

Vendome,  young  and  hot-headed,  was  at  this  juncture 
more  opposed  to  peace  than  the  rest  of  his  party  ; 
and  it  is  curious  to  contrast  his  attitude  with  the  fore- 
casts his  father  had  hazarded  as  to  his  character  and 
future,  when  discussing  the  matter  shortly  before 
his  death.  The  position  and  training  of  the  lad  had 
been  such  that,  according  to  the  King's  too  sanguine 
anticipations,  his  conduct  would  always  be  good, 
he  government  of  Brittany  had  been  bestowed  upon 
im  in  order  to  render  him  the  stronger  in  the  service 
the  King,  and  Henri  had  granted  him  precedence 
er  Nemours,  Guise,  Nevers,  and  Longueville,  so 
t  he  might  be  attached  the  more  straitly  to  his 
vereign.  Should  he  ever  forget  himself,  that  day  he 
should  lose  the  distinction  he  enjoyed  and  should 
walk  behind  every  one  of  them.  The  forecast  was 
scarcely  more  than  four  years  old.  But  Henri  was 

20 


3o6?J]  The  Making  of  a  King 

gone,  and,  his  strong  hand  removed,  every  one, 
Vendome  included,  did  as  seemed  right  in  their  own 
eyes. 

Ostensibly,  the  dispute  between  the  Prince  and  the 
Court  was  ended.  Amboise — against  the  King's  wishes 
— had  been  made  over  to  Conde  and  he  had  been  paid 
the  money  he  demanded.  The  country,  nevertheless, 
continued  in  a  disquieting  condition,  and,  whilst  the 
Prince  answered  for  Vendome's  obedience,  he  supported 
him  in  demands  to  which  the  Regent  was  not  disposed 
to  agree.  More  complications  followed,  and  before 
long  a  bitter  complaint  was  received  from  the  Prince 
himself.  An  envoy  he  had  sent  with  a  letter  to  Poitiers 
had  not  only  been  fired  upon  by  the  inhabitants  under 
the  leadership  of  the  Bishop,  but  had  been  detained 
in  confinement  and  threatened  with  death.  Worse 
still,  Conde  having  gone  thither  in  person,  he  had 
been  insolently  refused  entrance  into  the  town,  the 
militant  Bishop  again  playing  a  principal  part  in 
the  affair.  The  Queen's  name  had  been  freely  used, 
and  he  called  upon  her  to  avenge  the  insult  offered 
him. 

When  the  Prince's  letter  reached  the  Queen,  the 
Court  was  at  Saint-Germain,  where  Louis  was  in  full 
enjoyment  of  his  favourite  amusement  of  hunting  ;  and 
it  was  at  the  chateau  that  the  question  of  the  measures 
to  be  taken  to  re-establish  order  more  effectually  than 
had  hitherto  been  done  was  debated.  The  Council 
was  again  divided,  but  on  this  occasion — influenced 
possibly  by  the  fact  that  Leonora  d'Ancre  was  not  at 
hand  to  press  upon  her  counsels  of  peace — the  Regent 
sided  with  those  who  were  in  favour  of  vigorous  action, 


Strong  Measures  Decided  Upon         307 

and  who  urged  that,  without  further  loss  of  time,  the 
King  and  his  mother  should  proceed,  accompanied  by 
an  armed  escort,  to  Orleans,  where  they  would  be 
near  the  scene  of  the  disturbances.  It  was  known  that 
rumours  were  afloat  in  the  provinces  to  the  effect  that 
Louis  was  delicate,  that  it  was  necessary  to  keep  him 
in  cotton-wool,  and  that  for  this  reason  he  could  never 
be  at  a  distance  from  Paris,  where  he  was  constantly 
undergoing  medical  treatment.  Appearances,  it  was 
said,  pointed  to  the  probability  that  his  life  would  not 
be  prolonged.  The  uncertainty  as  to  the  future  thus 
engendered  was  a  manifest  evil,  and  Villeroy  urged  that 
he  should  be  taken  to  visit  the  centres  of  sedition. 
The  sight  of  him  would  dispel  the  mischievous 
reports  ;  the  loyal  would  rally  round  him  and  the 
disaffected  would  withdraw.  The  presence  of  the 
King  in  person,  at  the  head  of  an  army,  in  the 
troubled  districts  would  in  itself  produce  a  reassuring 
effect. 

The  arguments  set  forth  prevailed,  in  spite  of  the 
opposition  of  d'Ancre  and  Sillery.  The  Queen  had 
had  experience  of  the  lack  of  success  attending  the 
conciliatory  methods  she  had  hitherto  employed.  Peace 
might  have  been  thereby  nominally  restored  ;  but  the 
hollowness  of  the  pacification  was  demonstrated  by  the 
fact  that,  at  the  present  moment,  Conde,  pending  the 
arrival  of  her  answer  to  his  complaint,  was  executing 
what  he  called  justice  in  the  district  which  had  offended 
him,  and  Vendome,  still  holding  aloof  in  Brittany, 
had  given  no  sign  of  submission.  It  was  obvious  that 
something  must  be  done,  and  at  a  sitting  of  the  Council 
July  i  it  was  finally  determined  that  the  journey 


308  The  Making  of  a  King 

should  be  undertaken.  Three  thousand  disciplined 
Swiss  troops  were  at  hand,  and  it  was  arranged  that, 
together  with  his  guards,  they  should  accompany  the 
King.  By  July  3  the  Court  had  returned  to  Paris, 
preparatory  to  setting  out,  two  days  later,  on  the  way  to 
Orleans. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 
1614 

The  journey — The  Prince  de  Conde  loses  strength — The  pleasures  of 
the  road— Louis  as  bon  compagnon — The  Court  at  Orleans, 
Tours,  Poitiers,  and  Nantes — Vendome  makes  his  submission — 
Return  to  Paris — Louis's  majority. 

HER  determination  reached,  the  Queen  refused  to 
be  turned  from  it.  At  Paris,  as  at  Saint-Germain, 
it  roused  much  opposition.  During  the  day  passed  in 
the  capital  a  remonstrance  was  presented  to  Louis  by 
the  Parlement,  begging  that  he  would  not  leave  the 
capital,  where  his  person  was  in  greater  security  than 
elsewhere.  Louis  and  his  mother  were,  however,  in 
11  accord.  Thanking  the  Parlement  for  its  care  and 
anxiety,  he  added  that  he  desired  to  visit  the  country 
districts,  and  was  resolved  upon  doing  so.  Supported 
by  the  Regent,  no  one  had  power  to  oppose  him,  and 
n  the  morrow  he  quitted  Paris  under  the  escort  of 
bur  hundred  horsemen.  Epernon,  in  command  of  the 
guards,  was  to  follow  without  delay  ;  Mayenne  was 
dispatched  to  announce  to  his  former  confederate, 
nde,  that  Queen  and  King  were  on  their  way  to 
Orleans  and  to  summon  him  to  meet  them  there. 

For  once  Marie  displayed  boldness  and  resolu- 
tion, and,  if  not  free  from  misgivings,  she  did  not 
waver  in  her  purpose.  As  for  the  young  King,  the 

309 


V£t 

fa 


D 

j 


U.1O 

Co 


310  The  Making  of  a  King 

expedition  must  have  been  hailed  with  delight  by  a 
boy  of  twelve  who,  save  on  the  solitary  occasion  of 
his  coronation,  had  scarcely  left  the  neighbourhood  of 
Paris.  Besides  which,  ignorant  as  he  may  have  been 
of  the  full  importance  of  the  issues  at  stake,  he  knew 
enough  of  the  situation  to  add  the  element  of  excite- 
ment to  the  pleasure  of  novelty.  War,  if  not  probable, 
was  possible,  and  for  war  in  any  shape  Louis  had 
always  shown  a  boy's  eagerness. 

To  be  ready  for  a  fight  was  the  best  method  of 
rendering  it  unlikely  ;  and  full  preparations  had  been 
made  for  the  contingency  of  a  resort  to  arms.  It  was 
computed  that,  in  case  of  necessity,  twenty  thousand 
men  could  be  placed,  without  delay,  in  the  field. 
Munitions  of  war  had  been  brought  from  Paris.  Orleans 
possessed  cannon  of  its  own.  The  result  of  the 
measures  taken  was  quickly  apparent,  the  suddenness 
of  the  Queen's  action  rendering  it  the  more  effective. 
No  one  was,  at  the  moment,  in  a  position  to  resist  the 
royal  forces,  and  even  Vendome,  the  most  contu- 
macious of  the  confederated  nobles,  showed  signs  of 
submission. 

It  was  true  that  Conde  continued  to  maintain  an 
ambiguous  attitude,  posing  as  an  injured  man  with  a 
right  to  demand  justice.  It  was  further  known  that 
he  was  instrumental  in  circulating  reports  damaging 
to  the  King,  whom  he  described  as  hardly  capable  of 
mounting  a  horse  and  in  no  wise  a  sovereign  to  be 
desired.  But  his  influence  was  manifestly  on  the 
decline,  and,  having  obeyed  the  Queen's  summons 
and  reached  Orleans  the  day  before  the  Court  was 
expected  there,  his  reception  was  so  cold  that,  without 


Conde  Losing  Strength  311 

awaiting  the  King's  arrival,  he  turned  his  back  upon 
the  town  and  betook  himself  elsewhere.  Moreover, 
when,  as  Governor  of  Guienne,  he  wrote  to  say  that  he 
was  to  be  looked  for  at  Bordeaux  the  royal  lieutenant 
commanding  in  that  city,  in  conclave  with  bishop  and 
magistrates,  determined  that,  should  he  come,  the 
gates  should  be  shut  against  him.  It  was  clear  that 
the  tide  had  turned  and  that,  for  the  moment,  the  Prince 
had  no  chance  against  the  authority  of  the  Queen- 
Regent.  Accepting  his  defeat,  he  disbanded  the 
troops  he  had  collected  around  him,  and  announced 
his  intention  of  paying  his  respects  to  Louis  and  his 
mother,  either  on  their  return  to  Paris,  or  when  the 
States-General  should  assemble.  Such  was  the  initial 
success  attending  the  royal  progress,  and  it  must  have 
gone  far  to  strengthen  the  Queen's  conviction  that 
the  step  had  been  a  wise  one. 

On  the  day  after  Conde  had  left  Orleans  in  dudgeon, 
Louis  made  his  entry  into  the  city,  on  horseback,  sur- 
rounded by  nobles  and  greeted  by  joy-bells,  salutes 
from  the  cannon,  and  illuminations.  Not  only  at 
Orleans,  but  wherever  he  went  he  received  a  cordial 
welcome  from  the  loyal  amongst  the  provincial 
nobility  ;  the  sight  of  the  boy,  as  he  rode  through  the 
towns  which  lay  in  his  route  and  showed  himself  to  the 
populace,  was  sufficient  to  give  the  lie  to  many  of 
the  mischievous  reports  concerning  him.  It  was  true 
that  Sillery  still  urged  retreat,  endeavouring  to  persuade 
the  Regent  to  return  to  Paris  ;  but,  listening  to  wiser 
counsels,  she  determined  to  push  forward  and  to  con- 
tinue her  march  through  the  regions  where  discontent 
had  lately  prevailed. 


312  The  Making  of  a  King 

On  leaving  Orleans  she  directed  her  steps  towards 
Tours,  passing  through  Blois  on  her  way.  The  journey 
was  made  by  easy  stages,  and,  enlivened  by  little 
adventures,  afforded  the  King  a  pleasant  variety  to 
the  ordinary  routine  of  Court  life.  Brought  up  in  a 
palace,  and  hedged  round  by  conventional  restraints, 
the  most  commonplace  incidents — being  wakened  in 
the  morning  by  the  sounds  of  country  traffic,  or  even 
the  abuse  levelled  at  each  other  by  waggoners  as 
they  passed — had  all  the  charm  and  amusement  of 
novelty.  The  comparative  freedom  of  the  open  road 
was  a  new  experience,  and  the  boy's  spirits  rose. 
Recalling,  it  may  be,  stories  told  of  his  father,  and 
striving  to  emulate  the  gay  bonhomie  which  had  been 
one  of  Henri's  characteristics — Louis,  less  fitted  by 
nature  for  the  part,  would  at  times  attempt  to  imitate 
him  and  to  play  the  bon  compagnon.  Thus,  passing 
one  day  an  encampment,  and  learning  that  a  certain 
Sieur  de  PIsle  Rouet  was  entertaining  al  fresco  "the 
gormandizers  of  the  Court,"  he  announced  his  intention 
of  making  one  of  the  party. 

"  Ca,"  he  said,  descending  from  his  coach,  "  j'en 
veux  etre  des  goinfres  de  la  cour " — proceeding  to 
make  away  with  two  partridges,  two  breasts  of  chicken, 
and  some  tongue,  before,  with  a  gay  "Adieu,  mon 
hote,"  to  the  giver  of  the  feast,  the  uninvited  guest 
re-entered  his  carriage  and  resumed  his  journey. 

In  more  important  matters  all  prospered.  With 
every  day  it  was  becoming  more  certain  that  the 
Queen-Regent's  tardy  decision  to  show  fight  was 
destined  to  prove  more  efficacious  in  crushing  dis- 
affection than  the  policy  of  conciliation  she  had  hitherto 


The  Royal  Progress  313 

pursued.  Conde,  lately  regarded  as  a  grave  menace 
to  the  royal  authority,  was  increasingly  isolated.  He 
had  attempted  to  renew  relations  with  Sully,  but  Sully 
had  only  good  advice  to  bestow  upon  him  ;  and,  whilst 
he  was  attended  by  no  more  than  four  or  five  gentle- 
men, the  Court  was  crowded  by  those  who  flocked  to 
do  honour  to  the  King.  The  Huguenot  party,  ceasing 
to  regard  the  Prince  as  a  possible  leader,  paraded 
their  loyalty  as  Louis  traversed  the  district  where  they 
were  in  force.  Roquelaure,  lieutenant  in  Guienne, 
visited  Tours  with  a  thousand  horse ;  the  militant 
Bishop  of  Poitiers,  who  had  held  that  town  against 
Conde,  waited  upon  the  King  at  the  head  of  three 
hundred  horsemen,  and  begged  that  he  would  repair 
to  the  scene  of  the  late  dispute. 

The  Queen  resolved  to  accede  to  the  Bishop's 
request,  and  Poitiers  was  made  the  next  stage  of  the 
royal  progress.  Wherever  the  Court  passed  loyalty 
continued  to  revive  ;  the  sovereign  who  had  hitherto 
been  no  more  than  a  name  had  suddenly  assumed 
flesh  and  blood.  He  was  the  son  of  Henri-Quatre, 
and  the  very  youth  and  helplessness  of  the  fatherless 
boy  may  have  made  a  successful  appeal  to  the  imagina- 
tion of  those  of  his  subjects  who  had  fallen  under 
alien  influences.  "  Toutes  ces  humeurs  poitevines," 
recorded  the  "Mercure  Fransais,"  "  qui  avaient  tant 
ete  esmeues,  se  calmerent  en  les  voyant."  Vendome 
n  to  foresee  that  submission  in  more  than  pro- 
fession would  ultimately  be  necessary,  but  contented 
himself  with  sending  messages  conveying  the  assurance 
of  his  affection,  fidelity,  and  obedience.  Louis  was 
not  to  be  propitiated  by  mere  verbiage. 


3  H  The  Making  of  a  King 

"  What  sort  of  obedience  ? "  he  asked  contemptu- 
ously. "  He  has  not  yet  disarmed." 

Refusing  to  do  the  Duke  the  honour  of  receiving 
the  letter  his  envoy  had  brought,  he  caused  it  to  be 
handed  to  M.  de  Souvre,  by  whom  it  was  read.  From 
his  rebel  brother  the  King  would  personally  accept  no 
communication. 

Nantes,  being  the  capital  of  Vendome's  government, 
was  a  place  of  special  importance.  The  provincial  estates 
were  also  about  to  meet  there,  and  it  was  decided  that 
the  Court  should  proceed  thither.  The  journey  was 
once  more  a  triumphal  progress,  the  Huguenots 
continuing  foremost  in  their  demonstrations  of  loyal 
devotion.  The  keys  of  their  strongholds  were  presented 
to  the  King  ;  it  was  suggested  that  he  should  visit 
La  Rochelle.  Rohan,  Sully's  son-in-law,  and  one  of  the 
chiefs  of  the  reformed  religion,  came  with  his  wife  to 
Court.  Even  Sully  was  expected. 

It  was  on  July  u  that  Nantes  was  reached.  The 
journey  had  been  made  partly  by  water,  and  as  Louis 
passed  down  the  Loire,  the  country  folk  gathered  on 
the  banks  of  the  river  to  greet  and  welcome,  with  tears 
of  emotion  and  joyful  acclamation,  their  little  King. 
At  Nantes  the  success  of  the  expedition  was  to  be 
crowned  by  the  long-deferred  submission  of  Vendome. 
He  must  have  been  aware  that  he  had  no  alternative. 
The  young  Governor  of  Brittany  had  not  gone  the  way 
to  make  his  position  sure  nor  to  win  popularity  in  the 
province  entrusted  to  him  by  his  father.  The  country 
had  been  ravaged  and  laid  waste  by  the  troops  in  his 
pay,  and  when  the  Estates — opened  by  Louis  in  person 
— met,  the  light  in  which  he  was  regarded  was  made 


Vendomes  Submission  315 

clear.  In  the  remonstrance  they  drew  up  the  iniquities 
perpetrated  during  the  last  six  months  of  his  rule  were 
laid  bare,  and  it  was  entreated  that  the  Duke  should  be 
deprived  of  his  post. 

To  this  length  the  Regent  was  not  prepared  to  go. 
Vendome,  discredited  as  he  was,  was  still  the  son  of 
Henri- Quatre  and  safeguarded  by  his  blood  from  the 
justice  which  might  have  been  dealt  out  to  a  lesser 
offender.  She  was,  nevertheless,  determined  that  he 
should  be  reduced  to  obedience,  and  that  order  should 
be  restored  to  the  province.  Vendome  was  wise  enough 
to  perceive  that  further  resistance  would  be  vain  ; 
though  it  was  not  until  the  Court  had  spent  a  fortnight 
at  Nantes  that  he  came  thither  to  tender  his  homage. 

De  Retz  had  preceded  his  comrade  by  some  days. 
As,  making  obeisance  to  the  King,  he  proffered  his 
excuses  for  his  tardy  arrival,  they  were  received  by 
Louis  in  absolute  silence;  the  General  of  the  Galleys, 
present  at  the  interview,  hinting  to  the  Duke  that  more 
was  expected  of  him,  and  that  pardon  for  his  past 
conduct  must  be  craved  before  he  would  be  admitted 
favour.  Retz  having  acted  upon  the  suggestion,  the 
King  made  reply,  not  ungraciously.  When  repentance, 
he  said,  should  have  been  proved  by  deeds  he  would 
give  him  his  affection. 

Four  days  later  arrived  Retz's  principal,  Vend6me. 
The  meeting  between  the  brothers  is  graphically  de- 
scribed in  Heroard's  journal. 

Upon  the  Duke's  entrance  the  King  bowed  coldly  in 
greeting,  as  to  any  indifferent  guest,  leaving  Vendome 
to  speak  first,  which  he  accordingly  did. 

u  Sire,''  he  began,  "  I  could  not  fail  to  come  and  seek 


316  The  Making  of  a  King 

your  Majesty,  as  soon  as  your  first  summons  reached 
me,  that  I  might  give  you  the  assurance  that  I  have  no 
other  desire  than  to  be  your  very  humble  and  very 
obedient  servant  ;  desiring  to  testify  it  by  the  sacrifice 
of  my  life." 

Louis's  face  was  white  with  passion.  It  may  be  that 
the  rancour  of  half-forgotten  childish  years,  the  old 
jealousy,  supplemented  and  embittered  the  just  indigna- 
tion of  the  present  moment. 

"  Serve  me  better  in  the  future  than  you  have  done 
in  the  past,"  he  said,  his  voice  trembling,  "  and  know 
that  the  greatest  honour  you  have  in  the  world  is  to  be 
my  brother." 

"  I  believe  it  to  be  so,"  was  the  answer  of  Gabrielle's 
son.  Yet  he  may  have  remembered,  with  not  inexcusable 
bitterness,  that  there  had  been  a  time  when  it  seemed 
possible  that  he  should  have  occupied  the  place  filled 
by  Louis.  However  that  might  be,  the  game  was  for 
the  present  played  out ;  and  when  the  Court  turned  its 
face  towards  Paris  he  accompanied  it. 

There  was  no  further  reason  to  prolong  its  absence. 
The  object  of  the  expedition  had  been  accomplished. 
The  King's  authority  was  established  throughout  the 
disturbed  districts.  Conde*  and  his  friends  had  been 
discredited  and  reduced  to  submission.  The  King 
might  return  to  his  capital  a  victor,  and  on  September  1 7 
he  entered  its  gates. 

The  Queen  had  reached  the  city  on  the  previous  day, 
and  Louis,  as  he  rode  in,  dressed  in  white,  was  the 
central  figure  of  the  pageant.  A  brilliant  reception  had 
been  prepared  for  him.  The  artillery  had  been  brought 
from  the  Arsenal  ;  the  citizens  had  been  placed  under 


Louis's  Return  to  Paris  3T7 

arms  ;  members  of  the  Parlement  and  other  Orders 
joined  in  the  welcome.  All  the  city  went  forth  to 
meet  its  King,  returning  to  declare  himself  of  an 
age  to  administer  the  government  in  person.  In 
ten  days  he  would  enter  upon  his  fourteenth  year, 
the  date  fixed  for  the  legal  majority  of  the  Kings  of 
France. 

The  question  that  every  one  was  asking  was,  what 
would  be  the  attitude  of  the  Prince  de  Conde  ?  Would, 
or  would  he  not,  be  present  when  the  approaching 
ceremonial  took  place  ?  One  excuse  after  another  had 
served  him  as  a  pretext  for  refusing  obedience  to  the 
reiterated  summons  of  the  Regent.  Would  he  still 
remain  aloof,  and  would  the  function  be  accomplished 
in  the  absence  of  the  first  Prince  of  the  Blood  ?  No 
one  could  tell. 

Paris  was  filling  fast.  Epernon  had  arrived;  Longue- 
ville  had  followed  ;  the  Prince  de  Joinville  was  there, 
with  many  others.  On  September  29  the  doubts 
concerning  Conde  were  set  at  rest.  That  evening  he 
reached  Paris. 

The  long-deferred  meeting  between  the  King  and 
his  cousin  took  place  informally.  As  Conde  entered 
the  city  Louis  chanced  to  be  returning  from  the  hunt, 
and  the  Prince,  received  into  the  royal  carriage,  accom- 
panied him  tcr  the  Louvre.  There  he  was  given  a 
friendly  reception  by  the  Queen.  The  past  was  to  be, 
if  not  forgotten,  ignored.  Cond6  remarked  upon  the 
King's  height,  Louis  replying  somewhat  defiantly  that 
he  had  grown  in  body  but  more  in  courage.  And  thus 
peace  was,  temporarily,  made. 

The  ceremony  of  the  King's  public  declaration  of 


3i 8  The  Making  of  a  King 

his  majority  had  been  fixed  to  take  place  on  Octo- 
ber 2.  On  September  27  the  minority  had  come 
to  an  end.  His  little  brother,  not  yet  seven,  watch- 
ing the  preparations  for  the  event,  wished  to  know 
when  he  too  would  be  pronounced  of  age,  and, 
hearing  that  this  was  only  done  in  the  case  of  kings, 
asked  whether  there  were  no  other  kingdoms  save 
France.  Being  told  that  all  were  already  provided  with 
sovereigns,  he  made  particular  inquiries  as  to  Turkey, 
with  the  intention  of  establishing  his  claim  to  that 
realm  when  he  should  be  older.  At  a  later  date  he 
would  have  liked  to  possess  himself  of  a  crown  nearer 
home. 

On  October  i  Louis  held  his  first  Council  as  reign- 
ing monarch.  To  the  morrow  he  seems  to  have 
looked  forward  with  some  nervous  trepidation  ;  and, 
when  put  to  bed  in  the  evening,  he  made  a  vow  to 
Notre  Dame  des  Vertus,  on  condition  that  he  should 
be  able  to  pronounce  the  words  he  was  to  utter  on  his 
majority  without  mistake. 

On  the  following  day  the  ceremony  putting  a  formal 
end  to  his  childhood  took  place.  Arrayed  in  gold 
tissue  and  covered  with  diamonds — including  the 
magnificent  collar  his  mother  had  had  made  for  his 
future  bride — he  set  forth  from  the  Louvre,  sur- 
rounded by  the  great  nobles  and  officers  of  State  ; 
and  before  the  assembled  Parlement  presented  himself 
as  ready  to  take  the  government  into  his  own  hands. 
The  speech  which  had  caused  him  anxiety  on  the 
previous  night  was  uttered  firmly,  loudly,  and  without 
hesitation. 

"  Messieurs,"  he  said,  "  having  attained  my  majority, 


The  King's  Majority  3I9 

I  have  come  hither  to  let  you  know  that,  being  of  age, 
I  intend  to  govern  my  kingdom  by  means  of  good 
counsel,  with  piety  and  justice.  From  all  my  subjects 
I  expect  the  respect  and  obedience  due  to  the  sovereign 
power  and  the  royal  authority  placed  by  God  in  my 
hands.  They  may  likewise  anticipate  from  me  the 
protection  and  favour  to  be  looked  for  from  a  good 
King,  who  desires  above  all  things  their  peace  and 
welfare.  You  will  hear  my  intentions  more  fully  from 
the  Chancellor." 

Turning  to  the  Queen,  he  made  her  his  acknow- 
ledgments. 

c<  Madame,  I  thank  you  for  the  trouble  you  have 
taken  for  me.  I  beg  you  will  continue  to  do  so,  and 
to  govern  and  command  as  hitherto.  It  is  my  will  and 
intention  that  you  should  be  obeyed  in  all  things  and  in 
all  places,  and  that,  after  myself,  and  in  my  absence,  you 
should  be  head  of  my  Council.'* 

Certain  formalities  followed  —  a  speech  from  the 
Chancellor,  one  from  the  Queen  ;  the  registering  of 
decrees  directed  against  duelling  and  blasphemy.  The 
edict  of  Henri-Quatre  in  favour  of  the  Protestants  was 
renewed  ;  and,  with  the  endorsement  of  what  had  passed 
y  the  voice  of  the  assembly  and  the  thanks  of  the 
Queen  for  the  position  conferred  upon  her,  the  pro- 
ceedings were  brought  to  a  close. 

It  had  been  a  bad  day's  work.  The  government  of 
Marie  de  Medicis  was  to  continue,  established  upon 
its  new  footing,  to  her  own  ruin,  as  well  as  to  the 
detriment  of  the  kingdom.  Whatever  might  be  the 
wishes  of  those  in  power,  Louis  would  not  always 
emain  a  child. 


320  The  Making  of  a  King 

The  momentous  transaction  concluded,  he  returned 
to  the  palace,  very  gay,  but  no  doubt  tired  out  by  the 
function,  which  had  lasted  no  less  than  four  hours. 
Put  to  bed,  he  had  his  toys  brought  to  him  there, 
amusing  himself  by  painting  upon  little  wooden  boxes, 
until,  the  long  day  over,  he  fell  asleep  to  the  sound  of 
music. 

And  thus  the  personal  government  of  Louis  XIII. 
was  inaugurated. 


PRINCIPAL   AUTHORITIES 

"  Henri-Quatre  et  Marie  de  Medicis."     B.  Zeller. 

"Marie  de  Medicis  et  Sully."     B.  Zeller. 

"Marie  de  Medicis  et  Villeroy."     B.  Zeller. 

"(Economies  Royales."     Sully. 

"  Lettres  Intimes  de  Henri-Quatre."     Dussieux. 

"Journal  de  Jean  Heroard." 

"  Memoires  de  Richelieu." 

"  Negotiations   Diplomatiques   de  la  France  avec   la   Toscane." 

A.  Desjardins. 

"  Histoire  de  France."     Michelet. 
"Lettres  de  Malherbe." 
"  Ecrits  Inedites  de  Saint-Simon."     Faugere. 
"  Memoires  de  Bassompierre." 
''Memoires  de  Fontenay  Mareuil." 
"  Memoires  de  Lestoile." 
"  Memoires  de  Pontchartrain." 
"Galerie  de  FAncienne   Cour." 
"  Memoires  du  Marechal  d'Estre'es." 
"  Decade  commengant   1'Histoire  du  Roi  Louis  XIII."     J.  B. 

Legrain. 

"  Louis  XIII.  avant  Richelieu."     Rossignol. 
"  Histoire  de  la  Mere  et  du  Fils."     Eudes  de  Mezeray. 
"Vie  Intime  d'une  Reine."    L.  Batifol. 
"  Memoires  de  Louise  Boursier." 


21 


INDEX 


Albret,  Jeanne  d',  25 

Amboise,  made  over  to  Conde,  306 

Ammirato,  Scipione,  Tuscan  Sec- 
retary, 233,  263,  276 

Ancre,  Concino  Concini,  Marquis 
d',  created  Marquis,  241  ;  his 
influence  and  advancement, 
ibid. ;  292  ;  243,  251,  254,  271, 
275  ;  his  cupidity,  278  ;  286, 
287,  291  ;  made  Marshal,  292  ; 
293,  298,  307.  See  Concini 

Ancre,  Leonora  Galigai,  Marquise 
d',  279,  289,  306.  See  Concini 

Anne  of  Austria,  Infanta  of  Spain, 
51,  82,  94,  95,  145,  146,  182,  265, 
272,  273,  274 

Aubigny,  d',  19 

Auvergne,  Comte  d',  his  treason, 
27  seq.  ;  visits  Louis,  39  ;  40  ; 
arrested,  45  ;  Henri's  clemency 
to,  46,  47  ;  49  ;  56  ;  conspires 
afresh,  73  ;  in  the  Bastille,  85, 
88  ;  109,  no 

Auvergne,  Comtesse  d',  86 


Balzac,  quoted,  230 

Bar,  Catherine,  Duchesse  de,  2  ; 
her  Protestantism,  24,  25  ;  her 
death,  59 

Bassompierre,  115,  176,  180,  194, 
199,  200,  206,  207,  284,  287,  288, 
290,  291 

Batifol,  M.,  quoted,  230 

Bellegarde.Ducde,  Grand  Equerry , 
commonly  called  M.  le  Grand, 
204,  206,  228,  254 ;  Louis's 
affection  for,  275 ;  charges 
against  him,  275-277  ;  284, 
303 


Beringhen,  M.  de,  Louis's  first 
valet,  280 

Birat,  usher  at  Saint-Germain,  280 

Biron,  Due  de,  his  treason,  16,  27 
seq.  ;  envoy  to  England,  32  ; 
his  letter,  38  ;  at  Fontainebleau, 
42,  43  ;  arrested,  44  ;  executed, 
48  seq. 

Blois,  Henri  at,  41  ;   Louis  at,  312 

Bouillon,  Due  de,  conspires 
against  Henri,  27  ;  visits  the 
Dauphin,  37,  38  ;  41,  49,  50, 
96,  100 ;  Henri's  expedition 
against,  108  seq.  ;  reduced  to 
submission,  no  ;  at  Saint- 
Germain,  in  ;  240,  247,  254, 
281,  296,  301 

Boulogne,  Henri  at,  22 

Boursier,  Madame  Louise,  the 
Queen's  nurse,  3,  4,  5,  7,  8 

Bracciano,  Virgilio  Orsini,  Duke 
of,  291 


Calais,  Henri  at,  22,  31 
Campiglio,    Tuscan    envoy,    260, 

261 
Cardenas,  Don  Innigo  de,  Spanish 

ambassador,  269,  270 
Chatel,     Jean,     his     attempt     to 

murder  Henri  IV.,  66 
Chatre,  Marechal  de  la,  245 
Christine  de  France,  birth  of,  108  ; 

baptism,  116  ;    260,  292 
Cicogne,  M.  de,  177 
Cioli,  Florentine  envoy,  235 
Cleves,  Duke  of,  his  death,  185 
Concini,  Concino,    18,   20-22,   33, 

53,  54,  57,  125,  148,  149,  163, 

164,    177,    215,   217,    227,    231. 

See  Ancre 


323 


324 


Index 


Concini,  Leonora  Galigai,  married 
to  Concini,  18,  20,  21,  33,  53, 
54.  57.  177.  217.  See  Ancre 

Conde,  Prince  de,  55,  108,  176  ; 
marriage  of,  183  ;  184,  195,  214, 
223,  227  ;  returns  to  Paris,  228, 
229  ;  popularity  of,  240  ;  246, 
247,  248,  251,  253,  254,  257, 
265,  266,  279,  287  ;  leader  of 
confederated  nobles,  295  seq.  ; 
leaves  Paris,  296  ;  his  demands, 
301,  302  ;  letter  to  Louis,  303  ; 
complaints,  306 ;  at  Orleans, 
310,  311  ;  loses  strength,  313 
seq.  ;  returns  to  Paris,  317 

Conde,  Charlotte  de  Montmorency, 
Princesse  de,  148 ;  marriage, 
183,  195  ;  231 

Conti,  Prince  de,  2,  55,  214,  223, 
254.  279 

Conti,  Mademoiselle  de  Guise, 
Princesse  de,  112,  113,  227 

Cotton,  P£re,  Confessor  to  Henri 
IV.,  67,  155,  174,  175,  211,  244, 

257 
Crequy,  Mademoiselle  de,  172 


Descluseaux,  soldier  of  the  Guard, 

280 
Des  Yveteaux,  Louis's  tutor,  168, 

169,  232  ;    dismissed,  255 
Doundoun,  Maman,  Louis's  nurse, 

83,  112,  167,  220 
Dussieux,  M.,  quoted,  164,  165 


ElbSne,  the  Regent's  maitve  d 'hotel, 
250 

Elbeuf,  Due  d',  245 

Elizabeth,  Queen,  32 

Elizabeth  of  France,  daughter  of 
Henri  IV.,  her  birth,  50  ;  80  ; 
baptism,  116;  rebukes  Louis, 
141  ;  marriage  projects  for, 
144  ;  recognized  as  Princess  of 
Spain,  269  seq.  ;  273,  274 

Entragues,  the  Sieur  d',  his  con- 
spiracy, 73,  74,  76 ;  86,  88 

Entragues,  Henriette  d'.    See  Ver- 

,  neuil 

Epernon,  Due  d',  27  ;    visits  the 


Dauphin,  37  ;  202,  203,  207, 
208,  214,  217,  227,  228,  245,  254, 
285,  287,  292,  298,  317 
Estrees,  Gabrielle  d',  Duchesse  de 
Beaufort,  2  ;  Henri  wishes  to 
marry  her,  13,  14  ;  her  death, 
J4»  15 


Feria,   Duke  de,   Spanish  envoy, 

242,  243 

Fevre,  M.  le,  Louis's  tutor,  255,  256 
|    Fleurence,   M.  de,    Louis's    sous- 

precepteur,  256 
|    Fontaine bleau,  i,  2,  78,  79 
Fontenay,  267 
Force,    Due    de    la,  Henri    IV. 's 

letter  to,  49,  50  ;   67 
Force,  M.  de  la,  Captain  of  the 

Guard,  236 
Francis  I.,  King  of  France,  2 


Galigai,     Leonora.     See     Concini 

and  Ancre 
Gaston,  Due  d'Anjou,  afterwards 

Due  d'Orleans,  son  of  Henry  IV., 

birth  of,   153  ;   at  the   Queen's 

Coronation,  197  ;  200,  272,  318 
Giovannini,  Tuscan  envoy,  35,  40, 

43,  44,  46,  53,  70,  76 
Gondi,  Bishop  of  Paris,  224 
Gonzaga,  Cardinal  de,  264 
Grand,  M.  le.     See  Bellegarde 
Gudalesta,  Marquis  de,  182 
Guercheville,  Antoinette  de  Pons, 

Marquise  de,  2,  53,  286 
Guidi.     See  Volterra 
Guise,    Chevalier    de,    280 ;     kills 

the  Baron  de  Luz,  283  seq.  ;  287 
Guise,  Due  de,  140,  194,  199,  200, 

206,  276,  277,  285,  286,  287,  292 
Guise,  Duchesse  de,  53,  258,  282, 

286 
Guise,   Mademoiselle   de,    18,    53, 

57.     See  Conti 

H 

Harlay,    President  of  the   Parle- 

ment,  215 
Henri   IV.,    King  of  France,   his 

love  for  Fontainebleau,    i,   2  ; 


Inde: 


325 


interview  with  Heroard,  3  ; 
his  son's  birth,  5-9  ;  has  his 
horoscope  cast,  9-11  ;  question 
of  his  divorce,  12  seq.  ;  the 
choice  of  a  second  wife,  13-15  ; 
passion  for  Henriette  d'En- 
tragues,  15  ;  war  with  Savoy, 
1 6  ;  marriage,  17  ;  his  character, 
18-20  ;  at  Calais,  22  ;  25,  26, 
27  ;  Biron's  conspiracy,  27  seq.  ; 
dislike  of  the  Concini,  23  ; 
visits  to  Saint-Germain,  34,  45, 
46,  52  ;  dealings  with  the  con- 
spirators, 40  seq.  ;  48,  49  ;  his 
daughter's  birth,  50  ;  serious 
illness,  54,  55  ;  complains  of 
his  wife,  57,  58  ;  affection  for 
Madame  de  Verneuil's  son,  59  ; 
his  sister's  death,  60  ;  conduct 
with  regard  to  it,  60,  61  ; 
friction  with  the  Dauphin,  63, 
64  ;  recalls  the  Jesuits,  65  seq.  ; 
relations  with  the  Queen  and 
the  Marquise  de  Verneuil,  69-73 ; 
recovers  his  written  promise  of 
marriage  ;  leniency  towards  the 
conspirators,  76,  77  ;  relations 
with  the  Dauphin,  80,  82  ; 
their  quarrel,  83-87  ;  estrange- 
ment from  Rosny,  and  recon- 
ciliation, 90-93  ;  the  Dauphin's 
affection,  95,  116;  receives 
Marguerite  de  Valois  at  Saint- 
Germain,  97,  98  ;  expedition  to 
the  Limousin,  100 ;  at  Saint- 
Germain,  102,  in  ;  New  Year's 
Day  at  the  Louvre,  103-106  ; 
dines  with  Sully,  107,  108 ; 
expedition  against  Bouillon, 
108-110;  escape  from  drown- 
ing, 112  ;  the  Marquise  restored 
to  favour,  113,  119,  121  ; 
quarrels  with  Sully,  122-124, 
J36,  137 ;  with  the  Queen, 
124-131;  severe  towards  Louis, 
133  ;  birth  of  his  second  son, 
135  ;  arranges  marriages  for  his 
children,  144-148  ;  gives  audi- 
ence to  Tuscan  envoy,  149,  150, 
152  ;  betroths  the  Due  de 
Vendome,  153,  155  ;  receives 
Don  Pedro  de  Toledo,  156 ; 
true  to  his  pledges,  161  ;  letters 
to  Sully,  161,  162,  172  ;  con- 


ciliates Concini,  163  ;  his  opin- 
ion of  him,  164  ;  letter  to  the 
Marquise,  164  ;  relations  with 
the  Dauphin,  167,  180,  182  ; 
and  with  Sully,  171,  186,  187  ; 
at  the  Arsenal,  172,  173  ;  174, 
175  ;  his  passion  for  Mademoi- 
selle de  Montmorency,  176  ; 
marries  her  to  Conde,  ibid.  ;  his 
decline,  177-180 ;  anger  with 
Conde,  183  ;  prepares  for  war, 
184-186  ;  breach  with  Madame 
de  Verneuil,  187  ;  forebodings, 
192,  193  ;  194  ;  at  the  Queen's 
Coronation,  196,  198  ;  his  last 
hours,  199  seq.  ;  his  murder, 
202  seq.  ;  different  theories 
concerning  it,  201-212  ;  his 
heart  carried  to  La  Fleche,  216  ; 
his  obsequies,  223,  224  ;  re- 
membered by  his  sons,  237,  263 

Henriette  Marie,  daughter  of 
Henri  IV.,  197,  200,  272 

Heroard,  Maitre  Jean,  Physician 
to  Louis,  3,  4,  9,  24,  26,  and 
constantly  quoted 

J 

James  I.,  King  of  England,  73 

Jeannin,  President,  298 

Jesuits,  re-admitted  to  France, 
65  seq.  ;  accused  of  complicity 
in  Henri  IV.'s  murder,  211 

Joinville,  Prince  de,  50,  317 

Joyeuse,  Cardinal  de,  115,  245 


La  Fin,  traitor  and  informer,  28, 

Landrecies,  Conde  flies  to,  184 

Lerma,  Duke  of,  243 

Liancourt,  M.  de,  166 

Longueville,  Due  de,  70,  170,  291 
joins  the  malcontents,  297 
makes  his  submission,  303,  304 

317 

Longueville,  Duchesse  de,  70 
Louis,  first  Dauphin,   afterwards 
Louis   XIII.,    King  of  France 
his  birth,  4-7  ;  horoscope,  9-11 
at  Saint-Germain-en-Laye,  25 
conspiracy  against  him,  29,  73 


326 


Index 


visitors   at  Saint-Germain,    26, 

34.  37>  38.  39,  45,  4<5  ;  48  ',  his 
companions,  51,  52 ;  "reflects 
court  jealousies,  53,  54  ;  com- 
pared with  the  son  of  the  Maf- 
quise,  59  ;  early  training,  62, 
*33,  J34  ;  friction  with  his 
father,  63,  64  ;  69,  71  ;  rela- 
tions with  his  half-brother, 
75-77,  101  ;  visits  Fontaine- 
bleau,  78  ;  his  father's  affec- 
tion, 8 1  ;  visit  of  the  Count  de 
Sora,  82  ;  quarrel  with  his 
father,  83-85  ;  reconciled  to 
him,  87  ;  dislike  for  Rosny,  90, 
93,  138  ;  for  Spaniards,  95,  117  ; 
love  for  his  father,  95,  96,  116, 
117,  133  ;  meets  Marguerite  de 
Valois,  97,  98  ;  102  ;  104  ; 
visit  to  Paris,  108,  no;  parts 
with  his  father,  109  ;  his 
jealousy,  in  ;  and  unsocial 
moods,  112  ;  his  public  bap- 
tism, 114,  116 ;  conduct  on 
Maundy  Thursday,  135  ;  wishes 
to  kill  Turks,  139  ;  receives  Due 
de  Guise,  140  ;  is  rebuked  by 
Madame,  141  ;  142  ;  jealous  of 
Henri  de  Verneuil,  143  ;  talks 
of  the  Spanish  marriage,  145  ; 
149  ;  horror  of  parsimony,  151, 
152  ;  153  ;  visited  by  Don 
Pedro  de  Toledo,  156 ;  his 
companions,  165  ;  and  his 
discipline,  165,  166,  169,  170; 
lie  and  his  father,  167  ;  at  the 
Louvre,  168  ;  180  ;  the  King's 
severity,  181,  182  ;  looks  on 
the  Infanta  as  his  wife,  182  ; 
rivalry  between  gouverneiir  and 
gouvernante,  189,  190  ;  at  his 
mother's  coronation,  197  ;  200  ; 
203  ;  after  his  father's  murder, 
209  seq.  ;  accession,  213-215  ; 
216;  his  fears,  220,  221  ;  assists 
at  his  fa/Eher's  obsequies,  223, 
224  ;  is  proclaimed,  224  ; 
jealousy  of  Conde,  228  ;  receives 
him,  ibid.  ;  relations  with  the 
Queen,  230 ;  and  with  the 
gouverneur,  230-232  ;  his 
childhood  shortened,  233  ; 
character  and  conduct,  234-236 ; 
love  of  his  father,  237  ;  a  visit 


from  Pierrot,  237,  238  ;  re- 
ceives the  Duke  de  Feria,  243  ; 
supposed  hostility  to  Spain, 

243,  244  ;    journey  to  Rheims, 

244,  245  ;  coronation,  245,  246  ; 
Paris  entered,  ibid.  ;  complains 
of  Conde,   247,   248,    265  ;     re- 
grets   Sully's    dismissal,     249  ; 
desire  for  war,  251,  252,  294  ; 
his  tutor  changed,  255  ;    religi- 
ous observances,   257  ;    parted 
from  the  Chevalier  de  Vendome, 
257-259  ;    death  of  his  brother, 
261     seq.  ;      takes    Luynes    as 
falconer,  266,  267  ,  his  marriage 
arranged,  269,  272-274  ;    liking 
for   Bellegarde,    275  ;     his   first 
valet,    280 ;     his   mother's   dis- 
cipline, 280-282  ;    intervenes  to 
save  a  woman's  life,  288-290  ; 
love  of  justice,  290-293  ;    civil 
war  imminent,  299  ;  armed  es- 
cort   necessary  in    Paris,    299, 
300  ;    eager  for  war,  ibid.  ;    at 
the  Council-board,  302  ;  anger 
with  the  Due  de  Vendome  305, 
314;    taken    to    the    disturbed 
districts,  308  seq.  ;   at  Orleans, 
311;    plays  the  bon  compagnon, 
312  ;    at  Nantes,  314  ;  receives 
Vendome's     submission,      315, 
316  ;    entry    into    Paris,    316 ; 
attainment  of  his  majority,  318; 
its  declaration  before  the  Par- 
lement,  318-320 

Luynes,  Charles  d'Albert  de,  266, 

267,  289,  301 
Luz,    Baron   de,    the   father,    his 

death,  283  seq. 
Luz,  Baron  de,  the  son,  killed  in 

a  duel,  288 
Lyons,     first     meeting     between 

Henri  IV.  and  Marie  de  Medicis 

at,  17,  18 


M 

Malherbe,  the  poet,  quoted,  63, 
156,  171,  172,  174,  1 86,  187,  284, 
285,  300,  303 

Mantua,  Duchess  of,  115,  259 

Mantua,  Duke  of,  294 

Margaret  of  Austria,  Queen  of 
Spain,  death  of,  260 


Index 


327 


Marguerite  de  Valois,  Queen,  12  ; 
her  divorce,  13  seq.  ;  96  ;  visits 
Saint-Germain,  97  seq.  ;  in 
Paris,  99,  100  ;  108  ;  174  ;  273 

Marie  de  Medicis,  Queen  of 
France,  3  ;  her  position,  4 ; 
gives  birth  to  Louis  XIII.,  5 
seq.  ;  recovery,  9  ;  marriage  to 
Henri  IV.,  15  seq.  ;  arrival  in 
Paris,  1 8  ;  character  and  des- 
tiny, 20  ;  her  favourites,  20-22  ; 
her  son's  birth,  23  ;  domestic 
dissensions,  26 ;  43,  45  ;  her 
complaints,  46  ;  her  daughter's 
birth,  50 ;  52,  53  ;  63,  64 ; 
fresh  quarrels,  69  seq.  ;  75-77, 
84  ;  at  peace  with  her  husband, 
100,  101  ;  relations  with  Rosny, 
103-106  ;  birth  of  her  second 
daughter,  108 ;  domestic  dis- 
cord, 120  ;  birth  of  her  second 
son,  135  ;  complains  to  her 
uncle,  137  ;  149,  150,  164,  165  ; 
Henri  proposes  a  compromise, 
X77.  J79  ;  ms  warnings,  181, 
182  ;  question  of  her  corona- 
tion, 192 ;  it  takes  place, 
196-198  ;  200 ;  the  King's 
murder,  201,  seq.  ;  Marie  de- 
clared Regent,  207,  208  ;  209  ; 
her  power  confirmed  by  the 
Parlement,  214,  215  ;  conduct 
after  the  murder,  218  ;  Sully 's 
description  of  her,  219,  220  ; 
beginning  of  her  rule,  222,  226 
seq.  ;  relations  with  Louis,  230, 
233»  234  ;  her  policy,  239,  240  ; 
makes  Concini  Marquis  d'An- 
cre,  241  ;  242  ;  at  Louis's  coro- 
nation, 244  seq.  ;  dismisses 
Sully,  250,  251  ;  anxiety  for 
the  Spanish  marriage,  251,  254, 
255  ;  sends  away  the  Chevalier 
de  Vendome,  257-259 ;  a  match- 
maker, 259,  260 ;  question  of 
her  re-marriage,  260,  261  ;  her 
son's  death,  263-265  ;  concludes 
the  Spanish  marriages,  269,  270, 
273  ;  makes  peace  with  the 
Princes,  271,  272;  276-278;  her 
severity  to  Louis,  281  ;  angry 
at  de  Luz's  murder,  284  seq.  ; 
condones  it,  287  ;  her  cousin's 
marriage,  291  ;  293  ;  in  favour 


of  war,  294  ;  breach  with  the 
nobles,  295  seq.  ;  thinks  of 
resigning  Regency,  298 ;  par- 
leys with  the  rebels,  299  ; 
scene  at  Council-board,  301, 
302  ;  makes  peace,  302  seq.  ; 
Conde's  complaints,  306 ;  de- 
cides on  strong  measures,  307- 
310  ;  progress  through  the 
provinces,  310  seq.  ;  return  to 
Paris,  316  ;  receives  Conde, 
317  ;  is  confirmed  in  her 
authority,  319 

Mayenne,  Due  de,  162  ;  his 
loyalty,  253 

Mayenne,  Due  de,  the  younger, 
272,  273,  274  ;  with  the  con- 
federate nobles,  296  ;  submits, 
304  ;  308 

Medicis.     See  Marie 

Medicis,  Don  Giovanni  de,  113, 
114,  148 

Mercoeur,  Due  de,  154 

Mercceur,  Duchesse  de,  154 

Mercoeur,  Mademoiselle  de,  mar- 
ried to  Due  de  Vendome,  153- 

155 
Mesnard,    his   Regrets   Amoureux, 

100 
Metz,    Henri   de   Verneuil    to   be 

Bishop  of,  146 
Mezidres,  taken  by  Due  de  Nevers, 

297 
Michelet,  quoted,  12,  18,  44,  179, 

215,  225 

Moisset,  charges  against,  275-278 
Monaldesco,    murdered    at    Fon- 

tainebleau,  2 

Montbazon,  Due  de,  202,  304,  305 
Montglat,    Madame    de,    gouver- 

nante   to   the   Dauphin,    3,    6 ; 

35.  38>  39,  50;    her  system  of 

training,  62;  63;  83,  133,  134, 

141,  142,  151,  152,  168,  221,  222, 

263 

Montigny,  M.  de,  177 
Montmorency,  Charlotte  de.     See 

Conde 
Montmorency,  Due  de,  Constable 

of  France,  2,   27,  49,  99,   154, 

176  ;   Henri's  letter  to,  183 
Montmorency,     Henri    de,     260 ; 

marriage  of,  291,  292 
Montpensier,  Due  de,  2,  61,  74 


328 


Index 


Montpensier,  Duchesse  de,  19,  203 
Montpensier,     Mademoiselle     de, 

betrothed  to  the  Due  d'Orleans, 

145,  264,  265 

Morgan,  treasonable  agent,  73      • 
Mortemart,  Marquis  de,  166 

N 

Nantes,  Louis  at,  314  seq. 
Nemours,  Duchesse  de,  2,  18 
Neuilly,  Accident  at,  112,  113 
Nevers,   Due  de,   273  ;    with  the 
confederated  nobles,  296,  297 


Orange,  Louise  de  Coligny,  Prin- 
cess of,  14 

Orleans,  Due  d',  birth  of,  135, 
136;  betrothed,  145;  209;  his 
death,  261-263  ;  and  funeral, 
264 

Orleans,  Henri  IV.  at,  4  ;  Louis 
at,  311  seq. 

Orsini.     See  Bracciano 


Passitea,  the  Madre,  75 

Paul  V.,  Pope,  115 

Perron,  Cardinal  du,  147 

Philip  III.,  King  of  Spain,  73,  156, 

265,  273 

Pierrot,  at  the  Tuileries,  237,  238 
Pluvenal,  sous-precepteur  to  Louis, 

99 

Poitiers,  Bishop  of,  306,  313 
Poitiers,  Louis  at,  313 
Praslin,    Captain    of    the    Guard, 

203,  299 


Ravaillac,  179  ;  murders  Henri 
IV.,  202  ;  different  theories  as 
to  the  crime,  210,  211  ;  221 

Renouliere,  Mademoiselle  de,  3 

Retz,  Due  de,  297,  315 

Rheims,  Louis  at,  245,  seq. 

Richelieu,  Cardinal,  quoted,  101, 
125,  250,  263,  275 

Riviere,  M.  de  la,  casts  Louis's 
horoscope,  9-11 

Rohan,  Due  de,  207,  234,  314 


Rohan,  Duchesse  de,  129 

Rosny,   Marquis  de,   Sully 's  son, 

127  seq.,  172 
Rosny.     See  Sully 
Roquelaure,  M.  de,  Lieutenant  of 

Guienne,  313 
Rouet,  Sieur  de  1'Isle,  312 


Saint-Germain-en-Laye,  25,  26 
Saint  Julien,  favourite  to  Queen 

Marguerite,  100 
Savoy,  Duke  of,  16,  239,  251,  252, 

260 
Serta,  Don  Sanchez  de  la,  visits 

the  Dauphin,  56 
Sillery,  Chancellor,  70,  71,  76,  206, 

254,    256,    265,    269,    286,    288, 

296,  298,  307,  311 
Soissons,  Comte  de,  2,  52,  55,  195, 

211,     212,     222,     223,     229,     253, 

254,  256,  268,  269,  270,  271  ; 
his  death,  279 

Soissons,  Comte  de,  the  younger, 
300 

Sora,  the  Count  de,  82 

Sourdis,  Cardinal  de,  236 

Souvre,  Chevalier  de,  292 

Souvre,  M.  de,  gouverneur  to  Louis, 
168,  170,  182,  209,  210,  230-233  ; 
235,  236  ;  247-249,  256,  262, 
267,  272,  282,  289,  303 

Sully,  Maximilien  de  Bethune, 
Marquis  de  Rosny,  then  Due 
de,  Henri  IV.'s  letter  to,  9  ;  n, 
13-16,  32,  33,  42-44  ;  Henri's 
affection  for,  49,  53,  55  ;  Henri's 
confidences  to,  57,  58,  61,  71, 
72  ;  his  enemies,  89,  90  ;  Louis's 
dislike  for,  90,  94,  171,  190  ; 
in  disgrace,  90-92  ;  restored  to 
favour,  92,  93  ;  at  the  Louvre, 
103  seq.  ;  created  Due  de  Sully, 
107  ;  Henri  at  the  Arsenal, 
107,  108  ;  relations  with  King 
and  Queen,  121-130,  171  seq.  ; 
Henri's  letters  to,  161,  162  ;  185, 
186,  192,  193;  186,  187;  201; 
hears  of  Henri's  murder,  214 
seq.;  215;  describes  the  Queen, 
219,  220  ;  227  ;  239,  240,  246, 
247  ;  his  dismissal,  248-250  ; 
261,  313,  315 


Index 


329 


Taxis,    Hieronimo,    Spanish    am- 
bassador, 37,  38,  56,  73 
Thou,  de,  299 
Toledo,  Don  Pedro  de,  his  mission, 

156-159 

Torigny,  Comte  de,  165,  166 
Torricello,  a  priest,  35 
Tours,  Louis  at,  313 
Tuscany,  Grand  Duke  of,  15,  21, 

51,  120,  149,  150 


Varenne,  in  Henri  IV.'s  confid- 
ence, 217 

Vendome,  Alexandre  de,  Cheva- 
lier of  Malta,  son  of  Gabrielle 
d'Estrees,  51,  52,  80,  95,  228, 
237.  257-259,  293 

Vendome,  Catherine  de,  daughter 
of  Gabrielle  d'Estrees,  51,  70, 
146,  147,  151,  260 

Vendome,  Cesar,  Due  de,  son  of 
Gabrielle  d'Estrees,  2,  4,  7, 
8  ;  meets  Marie  de  Medicis  at 
Lyons,  17;  19,  51,  80,  no,  112, 
113,  152,  153  seq.  ;  169;  229, 
237,  279  ;  escapes  from  the 
Louvre,  297  ;  in  Brittany,  304  ; 
his  father's  estimate  of  him,  305, 
306,  307,  313-316 

Ventelet,  Mademoiselle  de,  51 

Verdun,  Bishop  of,  154 


Verneuil,  Gabrielle  de,  60,  70,  74, 
101,  120,  143,  151,  154 

Verneuil,  Henri  de,  54 ;  com- 
pared by  Henri  IV.  with  the 
Dauphin,  59  ;  60,  61,  73  ;  his 
legitimation,  74  ;  at  Saint- 
Germain,  74  seq.  ;  84,  85,  95, 
101,  102,  116,  143,  147,  151 

Verneuil,  Henriette  d'Entragues, 
Marquise  de,  4,  15  ;  resents 
Henri  IV.'s  marriage,  17  ;  pre- 
sented to  the  Queen,  18  ;  20, 
22  ;  her  treason,  27,  29,  30,  34  ; 
visits  the  Dauphin,  26,  34,  46, 
54  ; .  35.  36,  77.  56,  58  seq.  ;  69  ; 
intrigues  of,  70,  71  ;  fresh 
treason,  73,  74,  86  ;  regains  her 
ascendency  over  the  King,  113, 
119,  120;  129,  130;  Henri's 
letter  to,  164  ;  Henri  estranged 
from,  187 

Vic,  M.  de,  204 

Villeroy,  Secretary  of  State,  59, 
71,  80,  217,  254,  271,  298,  307 

Vitry,  Captain  of  the  Guard,  45, 
201,  205 

Vitry,  the  younger,  Captain  of  the 
Guard,  266 

Volterra,  Chevalier  Camillo  Guidi 
di,  149,  150,  155,  171,  175 


Zamet,  the  banker,  8 
Zeller,  M.  Berthold,  quoted,  212, 
277,  302 


PRINTED    BY 

HAZELL,   WATSON   AND  V1NEY,    LD. 
LONDON   AND  AYLESBURY. 


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